The Twelve Days of Misfits
by Matt the Batman Fan
Summary: Set in the Misfitsverse. It's Christmas time and it's time for the world's weirdest group of superheroes to celebrate the holiday season. Here's hoping Gotham is still standing after all of this. . .
1. Track Three

Before we begin, I would first like to wish everyone who's reading a Happy Holidays. This fiction series of mine has become a good, stable part of my life and a big reason why it has is because of you guys reading and giving me support. The people I've met and the friends I've made over the course of writing this has made the labors more than worth it. More specifically, I'd like to thank Rachel Wilson, Leigh Teetzel, and Shawn Watson for finally needling me into doing a series of Christmas stories. Once again, you guy and gals, along with the rest of my dozens and dozens of fans, are some of the best readers that a somewhat mature teacher and student could ask for.

As for setting the frame for these particular stories, these tales all specifically take place in The Misfitverse so those of you who have stumbled upon this story and aren't familiar with my overly bloated magnum opus might be a little confused. Still, if you have any questions, feel free to e-mail me at the address on my profile and I'll be happy to try and lend a hand. After all, Lord knows I'm always ready to talk about the stuff that I make.

As for when in The Misfitverse takes place, well, that would be somewhere in the six months between Issues #83 and #84. Yep, we've got a futurefic on our hands and, given that I haven't actually published those yet, I, as the all-powerful author, reserve the right to change what may happen in the future at my very whim.

And now all that crap is out of the way! Sit back and enjoy. . .

* * *

_The Twelve Days of Misfits_

Chapter One

Track Three

_Wayne Manor - December 24th - 2:26 P.M._

Unable and unwilling to keep the small, kindly grin off of his face, Wally West took a moment to wonder, as he watched his youngest child sleep away the lazy, snow-drizzled afternoon, if he would ever get tired of seeing such a wonderful sight. His son's face seemed to shine in front of his eyes, the bits of sunlight slipping through the window casting Jai West's coffee-colored skin with a radiance that meshed nicely with the dark green blanket and the rich, sapphire quilt wrapped around his tiny, three-year-old body. The young father felt the sudden urge to sweep his long fingers across his son's forehead, if only to swipe away an errant lock of hair that was threatening to fall into the boy's eyes, but he eventually resisted the urge. After all, the scene was quite appealing already.

_It's your first real Christmas, little guy_, Wally thought with a smile, the speedster's grin growing even stronger as a sliver of drool began to slip from the right side of Jai's open mouth. _And here you are eating and sleeping your way through the whole thing. Grandpa Barry would be so proud. _.

Unfortunately, not all was as it should be in the life of the man known the world over as The Flash. In fact, as pleasing as the sight in front of him just so happened to be, the young father was currently more concerned with what wasn't there to be seen upon returning to the stately home on Mountain Drive after a late morning patrol.

_And a very boring patrol at that_, Wally added to himself. _Another day at the office, another day with nothing big to report, and another instance where my daughter isn't where she should be. _

Of course, it didn't take long at all for the young father to realize where his eldest child had run off to. As a matter of fact, he didn't need to employ his unique ability to sense the motion and kinetic energy of others or use even an ounce of his unparalleled running speed to piece together this particular mystery. If truth be told, the man who could run circles around even Superman himself had begun to drag his feet as he left the Wayne Manor nursery and made his way down the immense staircase that stood near the foundation of the impressive mansion. Letting out a hearty sigh and a weary shake of his head upon reaching the ground floor, Wally did his best to try and keep from getting too angry or too pouty as he stalked his way over towards a familiar grandfather clock and the even more memorable passageway that lay behind it.

As he began making his way down the stone steps leading into the catacombs below the manor, Wally couldn't help but think back to how much he had come to hate coming down here. Not that he couldn't stomach the trip or the sights inside, of course, but it had remained a distasteful experience whose lack of appeal had only grown over the course of a decade. It had started during his teenage years and those hated days when his uncle Barry would drag him over to Gotham so he could speak to Batman about, well, whatever the hell they talked about. Though the trips had gone a long way into helping him make one of his oldest and most loyal friends, Wally had to confess that he still didn't like what he had to endure in order to become buddies with one Richard Grayson, yet another important person in his life who clearly did not share his distaste for the dark, creepy caves and the dark, creepy man who happened to call it a second home.

In fact, perhaps the thing that frustrated him the most about this place was the fact that so many of his loved ones didn't seem to share his particular difficulty. It didn't take too long for Linda to confess to him that she had been coming down here more frequently, his beautiful, sharp, and usually sane wife claiming that the dark, overly quiet, bat-riddled confines actually helped her think. Barry's affection for the cave was even more stressful, his memories of all but dragging his uncle out of the cave most likely adding wrinkles that had no business being on the face of someone who wasn't even old enough to go to college yet.

And Bart? Forget about it. That kid would have been quite happy to waste many a day away looking around at all the cars and planes and computers and bats pooping on the floor right next to your shoulder as if they were marking their territory.

All of the damage wrought by those past memories had only been slightly soothed when Jai had revealed his distaste for The Batcave, the boy's initial sniffling and eventual crying on his first trip down to these dark confines giving the young father more than enough evidence to believe that his youngest child had little desire to take another trip down to these drafty corridors and the humming hard drives and the flapping of leathery wings. Unfortunately, judging from the way a certain redheaded three-year-old was bouncing around in her chair, that perfectly natural reaction didn't appear to be shared by Jai's older sister. In fact, it was quite obvious to Wally that little Iris West seemed quite at home in front of one of the massive Crays that populated the center of The Batcave. The immense monitor above the computer was occupied with the task of showing an oft-repeated episode of _Spongebob Squarepants, _a function that was most likely not expected of the supercomputer upon its initial construction but was still being performed quite nicely.

"What brings you down here, Flash?"

Wally tried hard not to jump as he quickly tore his green eyes away from the ongoing exploits of Sandy and Patrick and towards the middle-aged nutcase who had managed to sneak up on him _yet again_. The Fastest Man Alive had no idea how Bruce Wayne had gotten so close to him without noticing and that surprise did little to ease his frustrations towards the situation at hand. Swallowing away the usual ball of nervous anger that seemed to pop up every now and again when it came time to speak with The Dark Knight of Gotham, Wally bravely went to his task.

"Just what is my daughter doing down here, Bruce?"

Bruce Wayne quickly turned away from Wally, the detective looking somewhat affronted about having to answer such a pointless question. "Alfred is going to the store to pick up some things for the dinner and Linda is on assignment for The Times," he replied while returning to his usual spot in front of the cave's central computer, his dark cape billowing behind him as a result of his rapid turn. "Alfred dropped the kid off here and told me to look after her."

Wally found he had to put quite a bit of effort to avoid raising his eyebrows at that reply. Though he certainly wasn't quite the master of deduction that Bruce had proved himself to be, The Flash couldn't help but see not only a fair share of holes in the older man's logic but also a great many questions that he could have asked in response.

_Then why isn't Iris just taking her nap like she's supposed to be doing?_

_Why would Alfred just not take Iris with him to the grocery store? Or leave her with Stephanie, someone who would have been more than happy to watch over her?_

_How in the hell did the Spongebob Squarepants DVD that, as of last night, was on top of a cabinet in the living room that Iris could not possibly reach, somehow wander its way down to The Batcave when Alfred would have sooner contracted malaria than have anything to do with it?_

Instead, the question that Wally wisely decided to go with was: "Do you ever take a break from all of this?"

Batman cast a familiar glare as Wally familiarized himself with what was on the central monitor, doubtlessly a portion of one of the detective's many criminal data files. "Crime doesn't take a holiday, Flash. There's no reason that I should either."

Once again, Wally knew he could have formed quite an argument in response to the detective's words. Lord knows the time that he had spent worrying about Dick during the Christmas holidays, the sparsely divided hours wondering just how his best friend could even survive spending the holidays alone in a place like this, gave him more than enough ammunition. However, The Flash let the opportunity to raise a ruckus slide past him once again as he chose to employ another safer route.

"Well, I'm going to take her upstairs. I don't want her to get in your way or anything."

Wally had spent a lot of time focusing on the little moments of time, those split seconds where you could read almost everything about how to win a fight or what made a person tick. Tragically, that left him perfectly equipped to catch the phenomenally sudden flicker of sadness that passed through Bruce's normally ironclad countenance. That little moment, when combined with the feeling that rumbled through his gut as he turned to see his daughter's eyes widening to doe-like proportions with childlike sadness, left him with a hint of nausea that had nothing to do with the fourteen mini-pancakes he had gunned down at the breakfast table six hours before.

"She isn't causing any problems, Flash," Bruce reasoned with as much sternness that could be realistically applied to such a situation. "You're welcome to keep her here if there's something you need to do."

The Flash felt as if he would have to press his hands down onto his forehead to keep his eyebrows from rising upward that time. _I'm welcome to keep her down here?!_ the concerned father spat out to himself, the gall of the glowering man in front of him forcing Wally to turn away. Of course, that only forced him to weather the spark in his little girl's green eyes, a flicker of excitement doubtlessly caused by hearing what the cranky, sarcastic, insensitive, annoyingly guileless, unsympathetic, ill-tempered, anti-social, backbiting know-it-all had suggested. Once again, the young father hardly needed to be a master detective to realize that his daughter was hoping that her father would go through with such a ridiculous suggestion.

"Well, she can stay down here if she wants to."

The excited cheer that rose from his daughter's lips told Wally more than he needed to hear. Finding that he had to practically push in his lungs in order to mute the deep sigh that slipped from his lips, he slowly made his way up the stone staircase.

The Batman made certain to wait for the sound of the grandfather clock sliding back to its normal spot before turning his eyes away from The Black Dog's latest log entry. As he absorbed what little information that he hadn't already taken in from what was on the screen, the dark detective could feel a pair of eyes watching him intently. Swerving his chair to his right, he quickly stared back at little Iris and watched her in return, the two of them sharing an almost conspiratorial look.

Iris, of course, was the first to break it.

"TRACK TREE!" she shrilled happily while continuing to hop in her chair. "TRACK TREE!!"

Bruce Wayne found he had to work very hard to keep himself from laughing as he shook his head to and fro. Quick to give in to the pressure, he pressed an increasingly familiar button on his console.

"Computer," he growled. "_Bells of Dublin_. Track three."

The Batman quickly turned back towards his work. The squeaking sounds of Iris's computer chair was nothing more but a slight distraction as the pleasant sounds of Matt Malloy's tin whistle and Paddy Maloney's Uilleann pipes wafted through the gloomy cavern. Then, approximately forty seconds in, the voice of Elvis Costello joined the well-crafted melody, the veteran songwriter's stylings quickly followed by Iris's poor attempt to sing along.

"I knew of two sisters whose name it was Christmas, and one was named Dawn, of course, and the other was named Eve."

As he tapped his fingers to the beat, Bruce tried not to think about how, as he listened to St. Stephen's Day Murders for the twelfth time in the last hour, that the half-smirk that had been on his face could have possibly turned into a genuine smile.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Yes, I know that this story is sickeningly sweet. Still, I think we could all do with a little bit of harmless happiness right about now. That's what the holiday's about for most of us, right? Still, if you're looking for the emotionally complicated, action-packed stuff that you usually see in the main series, then you're probably barking up the wrong tree. These stories are basically going to be about just what makes us Christmas for a lot of us and, in this case, I mixed in a tribute to my love for two of my favorite comic book heroes, my favorite Christmas album, and a child's desire to listen to the same song over and over and over and over again.

Please feel free to review. I could do with some feedback under my Christmas tree.

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Chapter Two Preview

Tomorrow comes a trip to Rockefeller Center as the spotlight shines on The Black Dog and The Last Daughter of Krypton. Tune in as the young couple share their own Christmas memories in the next installment of The Twelve Days of Misfits: Compensating Holiday Wishes. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	2. Compensating Holiday Wishes

Chapter Two

Compensating Holiday Wishes

_New York City – Rockefeller Center – 3:02 P.M._

Lloyd Thomas liked being on the outside looking in. After years of being the center of so many peoples' attentions, whether as an experimental guinea pig in the clutches of Project Cadmus and Doctor Immanuel Lugae, a young mercenary in the service of Mao Tenryu, or as Batman's second-in-command, perhaps it was only natural that he would grow to like the idea of someone else having the spotlight. Still, regardless of how he came to enjoy it such situations, the 20-year-old man from the streets of Blackpool was quite content with merely watching all the goings on. As he calmly brushed some of the fallen snow out of his short, black hair, Lloyd shifted his hazel eyes back and forth across the idyllic, metropolitan scene. He took in the busy streets to the west and east, the well-trodden sidewalks and noisy corner vendors that bordered the aged roads, and, of course, the gaudy beauty of the enormous Christmas tree that dominated the very center of the plaza.

Quickly tiring of some of the more predictable sights, it didn't take long for Lloyd to turn his attentions over to the enormous ice skating rink around the tree. He wasn't surprised in the least to see that only a small percentage of the many travelers really seemed to know what they were doing out there, the exceptions to the common rule effortlessly weaving their way around the peaceful chaos with an almost carefree grace. However, it wasn't the competent participants of the popular Christmas activity that drew Lloyd's attention but, rather, the ones who stumbled along the way. The children who would slip and crash down onto the ice and then quickly get back up again despite the occasional fretful parent attepting to stop them. The young students who awkwardly bumbled through their steps and glides, laughing as they or one of their companions stumbled and fell.

The young telepath took a great deal of hope from all the noisy serenity. If anything else, it was a nice remainder of why he kept doing what he was doing even when a more rational fellow would have hid themselves away from the world long ago.

An ungainly snort of laughter from his left provided Lloyd with an even more appealing aide memoire. Turning his head to look at the source of the inelegant chortling, Lloyd needed no convincing to drink in the sight of Kara Zor-el standing beside him. His eyes first roved over the half-Kryptonian's shoulder-length blonde hair that was becoming increasingly riddled with the lightly falling snow. The lights of the giant tree flickered briefly against her face, the glass and halogen bulbs illuminating Kara's slightly tanned, somewhat thin, but still strong features that Lloyd knew were not the least bit affected by the near freezing cold. Then he took in his girlfriend's attire, from the comfy looking charcoal-colored sweater, the deep, navy-blue scarf wrapped around her elegant neck, her black jeans that covered her long, muscular legs and her equally dark coat and the former assassin suddenly found that he had to work hard to suppress a positively goofy giggle.

_This woman wants me to be hers_, he thought, the young man marveling at just the mere concept. _This goofy, shy, and gorgeous woman. How in all that's bloody holy or unholy is something like that even possible?_

Feeling a pair of familiar eyes upon her, The Last Daughter of Krypton turned to stare back at the curious look on Lloyd's face. Already having a good idea of just what was going on in her lover's head, Kara found she needed a moment to repress the need to shake her head back and forth while keeping her crystalline blue eyes on the young man known to some as The Black Dog.

"Enjoying the holiday season, Mister Thomas?"

There was a hint of mischief within Kara's question, an inkling that prompted Lloyd to promptly snap out of his reveries without any further delay. "'S a bit of all right," he rasped in response, his familiar West London patois sounding a bit more purposefully rough than usual. "Ya know, pet. I've been meanin' to ask you if you had anything like this back on Krypton."

Kara let out a sigh as she tilted her head to one side in thought, the inclination to snap at Lloyd for the use of his much-hated nickname for her stuffed down by her memories of the past. Looking back to see the apologetic concern in Lloyd's eyes, the young woman was quick to respond. "It's pretty hard to take a lot of stock in the birth of gods when you can already fly up into the heavens," she softly replied, her memories of a spoiled existence looking quite unpleasant in her mind's eye. "Of course, given my family's high standing, it was kind of hard to distinguish regular days from holidays anyway. Anything I wanted at anytime, I got."

Lloyd brought his teeth together and let out a barely discernible hiss, the young Brit now thoroughly regretting his question. He knew that Kara had a great deal more painful memories hidden underneath what she mentioned, hazy remembrances of her father's attempts to turn her into an unstoppable engine of destruction. A small part of him, the portion that wanted to protect this strong, occasionally graceful creature at all times, was already beginning to chastise the rest of him, harassing him for his stupidity.

The warm grip of Kara's hand on his and the sight of the young woman rolling her eyes stifled all of that in a hurry.

"That's enough of that," she warned with a mixture of playfulness and solemnity. "What about some of your Christmas memories? Anything good to remember on your end?"

Lloyd's initial reply was a wry smile and a squeeze of his girlfriend's hand, his reaction to his own stress significantly less severe than his previous response to Kara's. "Can't say I remember a great deal about the holiday season before my times in The Monster Farm," he confessed. "Still, Naomi did what she could to keep me and Vincent as happy as we could have been. She made sure to work over the holidays an' play Christmas music whenever Lugae wasn't around. Y'know, the good stuff. Not all this poppy dreck we've been hearin' over these speakers for the last half hour."

Kara chuckled while raising an eyebrow at the predictably gruff and cranky response. "The good stuff, huh?"

"Oh, yeah," Lloyd quickly replied. "Nat King Cole, Boyz II Men, Tony Bennett, The Chieftains. The doc tried to sing along every now and again, not very well, mind you, until me and Vincent would kick at our cells until she stopped."

Kara couldn't help but let out a warm laugh, her thoughts once again going out to Naomi Mitchell, the assistant of Doctor Lugae and the kindly woman who had somehow managed to keep the man she loved sane throughout all those harrowing times. "She seemed really happy to see you today."

"Well, I was happy to see her too," Lloyd responded rather matter-of-factly, the tart counter prompting his girlfriend to cluck her tongue against her cheek as she snuggled into his left side. "An' here's hopin' that my big sis will actually think me worthy of some of her time this holiday season as well," he added while pulling her closer.

"Ah, I'm sure she'll come," Kara assured Lloyd while firmly rubbing his back with the palm of her right hand. Past experiences had told Kara that Lloyd clearly liked it when she dug her fingertips into the muscle just below his spine and the almost hungry growl that rumbled from Lloyd's lips told her that this time was no different. Suddenly agreeing with Lloyd that they had something better to currently do than talking, Kara leaned in close just in time to share the familiar buzzing sounding off in her ear, a clear indication that the two of them had a guest.

"How's everything comin' about, Answer Man?" Lloyd asked, the authoritative tone in the candor of The Misfits' second-in-command suddenly roaring to life.

Noah Kuttler, ever the professional even during the most carefree of seasons, was equally quick to turn to his duties. "Quite well, Black Dog. As a matter of fact, Nightwing has already completed the preliminary preparations and is already awaiting your arrival."

"Well, good for him," Kara answered with a bit of forced cheer. "Are you sure you don't want to watch over all the festivities, C.C.? It'll be a little weird going on a patrol without you watching over us."

The two young soldiers could just hear the slightest of chuckles from Noah's side of the comm. link before the bespectacled hacker provided a more detailed answer. "I'm certain that the three of you will be quite all right without my surveillance. It seems to be nothing more than a standard gang bust-up, after all."

"Yeah, well I'm a little more worried about just what you're plannin' to do," Lloyd fired back with a cross retort. "You sure this is a good idea, mate?"

"Absolutely not, Black Dog," The Calculator shrewdly replied. "However, the lack of underlying wisdom behind my decision is not enough to keep me from at least making the attempt."

Kara and Lloyd shared a knowing look, a collective stare that was doubtlessly seen by the state-of-the-art satellite surveillance that Noah had at his disposal back in The Batcave.

"Just be careful, C.C.," Kara gently warned. "And we'll see you at dinner tonight."

"Well, thank you very much, young lady," Noah answered with a titch of stiff sincerity. "Oh. And Black Dog?"

"Yeah?"

"Scandal hasn't returned your call."

Lloyd initially knitted up his eyebrows, confused by the unusual statement. "I didn't ask if she called back."

"Oh, of course you didn't," Noah said with a clear note of good humor. "Happy hunting to the both of you."

The distempered grunt that emerged from Lloyd's lips mixed with the sound of Noah breaking off the comm. line and caused Kara to let out a small laugh. The chuckle, in turn, incited Lloyd to once again bring Kara a little closer to him as a suspicious twinkle ran through his eyes.

"Looks like our lunch break is over," Kara pointed out, the young woman looking not the least bit threatened by Lloyd's irritable behavior. "You know, given that it's Christmas Eve, you would have thought that we'd be off for the day."

"Yeah, or have one of them kitschy little Christmas parties with free booze," Lloyd added. "Still, given that our boss is the big, bad Batman. . ."

"Yeahhhhh," Kara broke in. "Maybe we should just be happy that we actually get to sit down for Christmas dinner instead of ordering at McDonald's."

The young couple shared another silent moment within the cocoon that they had momentarily built on this pleasant winter afternoon. The brightness of Kara's eyes began to look even more appealing than usual to Lloyd while Kara's inclination to run her long fingers through Lloyd's hair suddenly became quite hard for the young woman to resist.

"Are you happy?" Lloyd asked.

Kara let out an annoyed groan in response to the question. Leaning her body away from Lloyd just far enough so she could look into his eyes, she decided to placate her infuriatingly insecure boyfriend.

"For the last time," she warned. "If there's any other place I would rather be than here, I'd already have left to go there."

Lloyd didn't bother hiding his silly chuckling this time. "I guess I'm still a little surprised by all o' this," he confessed. "Didn't mean to cause you any frustration, luv."

"Well, I'm kind of shocked every now and again too," Kara replied softly, her own heart and mind drifting back to all the times she could have pursued what she had gained but had faltered. She could have burrowed within herself once again, stuck within the shadow of hers and others mistakes, but she took a chance. And, as a result, she had this. Whatever wonderful, frustrating, and pleasantly novel this was.

"Still though, Miss Zor-el," Lloyd added with a friendly growl. "You'll not here me complain."

Kara could feel her heart give off a bit of a flutter as she took in the cocky but still tender smile on her lover's face. "Me neither," she added, her arms slithering upwards until her hands brushed against the sparse hairs on the back of her lover's neck, "In fact, if you continue to be a good boy, I might just go through the trouble of helping you make up for all those crappy Christmases of yore."

The hunter's grin quickly returned to Lloyd's face, the alluring tone behind Kara's words quite appealing to him. Still, wanting to maintain at least an ounce of romantic credibility, The Black Dog did his best to stay cool and collected.

"No need to jump through hoops, luv. Got all I need to make up for things right here."

The young couple was more than happy to share another kiss as life went on around them. It was a gesture that perhaps lasted a bit too long given the fact that Richard Grayson was waiting for them. However, if this kindly audience can forgive these young lovers for taking an unnecessary minute or two to walk together through the fairly peaceful scene before rushing off to war, they would most certainly appreciate the kindness.

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Wow. It's been a long time since I've written a strictly romantic story. Here's hoping I haven't lost my touch (or at least whatever little skill I actually had in constructing such fluff). Still, I hope I at least set the table for some of the chapters to come although it's safe to say that plot has very little to do with what's going to be going on in these stories. Speaking of which. . .

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Chapter Three Preview

Wanton destruction, loads of unnecessary noise, and the singing of profanity-laced Christmas carols. What else could it be but Cecilia King-Jones and Stephanie Brown enjoying the holidays at stately Wayne Manor? Pity poor Alfred Pennyworth as he struggles to keep up with the most mischievous of Misfits in the next installment of _The Twelve Days of Misfits_: It's The Most Destructive Time of the Year. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	3. It's The Most Destructive Time

Chapter Three

It's The Most Destructive Time of the Year

_Wayne Manor – 3:15 P.M._

As the afternoon sun begins its trek to the west, its light shining down on the snow-riddled rooftop of one of Gotham's most distinguished estates, a pair of voices were more than happy to riddle the long, broad halls inside with noise. In fact, these colorful intonations have frequently punctured the once calm and noble silence of this lovely property on the western outskirts of Gotham City both throughout the holiday season as well as the days and months before them. However, very rarely were those past occasions more cacophonous or full of song. One of the singers, the one at the foot of the enormous stairwell at the center of the manor, was performing within a rather sloppy, unstructured mezzo-soprano that appeared to be trying to make up what it lacked in quality with an unhealthy dose of volume. The other entertainer's delivery, presented in a rather breathy soprano, was noticeably smoother than its counterpart, the cheery words from the singer's lips slipping freely and melodically as she continued to ascent the tall, carpeted steps.

"Then, three wise men did appear, bearing gifts of myrrh and such," continued Stephanie Brown, the young woman now known as Robin sporting an impish smile while continuing to stomp her way higher. "They said that they had followed a star and missed a woman's touch."

"Mary thought she might pleasure them," added Cecilia King-Jones, the vigilante known as Arrowette trying little to keep her friend's lyrical pace. She had attempted to improve her singing voice beforehand with a rather noisy clearing of the throat but her almost croaky delivery showed that her efforts did little good. "But could not take them to bed. . ."

Stephanie found she had to repress a laugh, mostly because of her friend's atrocious performance, as she reached the top of the stairwell before singing again. "But agaaain, Gabriel appeared to her and this is what he said."

"YOU CAN SUCK ALL THE DICK YOU WANT AND STILL BE A VIRGIN. . . MARY!" the girls sang together, Arrowette's efforts momentarily blunted as she began to move a rickety looking table closer to the anticipated landing point.

"You can suck all the dick you want," Cecilia was more than happy to inform in song.

"Everyone in the nation," Stephanie added as she hopped into the air in order to better straddle the wooden banister.

"Fellatio ain't no sin. Go and blow those Three Wise Men."

"And you'll still be a virgin. . ."

"'Cause there was no penetration!"

Alfred Pennyworth tried his best to withhold a sigh as he slowly strolled closer to the girls' activities, the distinguished gentlemen well aware that the ensuing chaos was soon to escalate. However, as he listened to the two young women continue to perform that revolting song, something doubtlessly stolen from one of those dreadful Christmas specials that the fair-haired crime fighters had appeared to become addicted to watching in the previous weeks, the former Interpol agent was well aware that he was stuck. There was little he could do to prevent what was to come and, should he attempt to do so, there was precious little evidence to indicate that he would not soon be forced to face an even more perilous situation some time in the near future. So, just as he had patiently done for the last three decades (and especially over the last week-and-a-half) the caretaker of Wayne Manor momentarily chose to sit idly by and await the damages wrought by the home's inhabitants.

"'Cause oral sex brings peace on Earth and joy!" the girls exclaimed as their singing began to come to a close. As they held the line's final note, Stephanie hunched her shoulders upward in presentation while Cecilia gave her friend a thumbs-up indicating that all was prepared. "'Cause oral sex brings peace on Earrrrrrth. . . and. . . joy."

Arrowette and Robin kept their voices running with the last note, the latter doing so much more efficiently despite the handicap of simultaneously sliding down a polished balustrade at what could only be construed as a very unsafe rate of speed. Somehow managing to keep her voice steady as she arrived at the bottom, Robin let out a high-pitched "WHEEEE" as the upward curve of the wood threw her high into the air. Twisting her body through two-and-a-half picture perfect forward somersaults, the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns left herself in a perfect position to messily crash through the wooden table that Cecilia had been so busy setting up. She was wise, for lack of a better word, to fall first with her upper back, her shoulders easily weathering the damage as she crashed through the aged, brittle wood and onto the pristine carpeting below.

"YEAAAAAH!" Cecilia whooped, the world's greatest archer obviously pleased that the stunt had gone according to plan. Her excitement coincided with Stephanie's laughter amidst the destruction she had created, her hearty constitution nurtured by 19 years in Gotham City and the Oa power ring on her right hand allowing her to endure the impact without suffering so much as a scratch.

"Okay," Robin said while spreading her arms wide in an attempt to make her own trash angel. "What's my score?"

Cecilia pursed her lips in thought, the long fingers of her right hand wrapping around her chin as she gave the question some thought. "Uhhhhh, I'm givin' you an 8.9," she announced, the declaration prompting Stephanie to let out a groan of disappointment. "Hey, you came out of your tuck far too early but the overall destruction and degree of difficulty made up for a lot of it."

"Ahhhhh!" Stephanie grunted before performing a natty kip-up that brought her back to her feet. "I bet that even the Russian judge wouldn't have noticed it."

"As many questions as I could have concerning this situation," Alfred broke in, the gentlemen's phenomenal reservoir of restraint finally beginning to overflow as the girls swerved around to look at him. "I believe it would be safer for all of us if I merely stuck with asking just where the two of you managed to find such a wretched looking slab of now broken wood."

"We bought it at a police auction a couple weeks back," Stephanie replied casually, the young woman appearing to not be the least bit affected by the stern undercurrent in the butler's words. "It was right next to the garbage dump where we found all those old car batteries and the rusted Camaro we used as a sled a couple days ago."

"Ah, yes," Alfred noted, his mind quick to recall the truly harrowing experience of having to clean up all the wreckage produced by the girls' previous holiday hijinx. While locked in his memories, the gentlemen made a note to once again thank Kara, Lloyd, and Wally for their invaluable assistance in returning the snow-covered yard to its normally pristine state. "So now we are merely resorting to pointlessly destroying furniture that could have been purchased by the needy or less fortunate. Well, that makes all of this far less damning."

"Ohhhh, just relax, Alfie," Stephanie said brightly while Cecilia looked just a little bit ashamed. "We'll clean everything up this time. And besides, after all the hard work we've put in this year, I think we could all use some time to unwind and. . ."

"HEY! WALLY'S BACK!!" Cecilia yelled, her attentions quick to turn toward her fellow Misfit as he made his way into the kitchen. "Let's go bother him!"

"Sounds good to me," Stephanie replied, a somewhat evil glint in her eye as she matched Arrowette step for step away from the clutter they had just created. "We'll be back to clean this up in a sec!"

The caretaker of Wayne Manor rolled his eyes in response to the ridiculous claim, the polished British gentleman recognizing that it was quite the undignified gesture but too annoyed to care. He could only hope that Master Wallace would have the foresight to keep the troublesome youngsters away from the chocolate he had bought during his most recent expedition to the market. The pecan pies he had made yesterday already appeared to be suffering from a distinct shortage of its tastiest ingredient and the head preparer of the night's dinner was well aware that he only had barely enough to properly make the last of his tasty confections.

"Want to take a guess on the odds that they'll _actually _be back here anytime soon?"

Alfred finally let out his sigh at the sound of the knowing inquiry. Turning around, the old man cast a kindly smile to Linda Park-West, the young mother who had been so phenomenally useful in keeping what few slivers of peace there was to be had at the manor. Dressed in a resplendent, black business dress complete with matching, functional heels, the esteemed columnist held a cup of steaming cocoa in her hands, a move doubtlessly spawned by a desire to warm up from the winter weather she had been forced to endure as shortly as ten minutes ago.

"I would prefer to avoid spending the time it would take to calculate such an astronomical figure, Miss West," Alfred replied rather coolly. "Particularly given my already lengthy list of duties."

The chuckle that rose from the lips of the wife of The Fastest Man Alive was a great deal easier on Alfred's ears than any of the maniacal cacklings or equally hectic musical stylings that had previously taken place around the stairwell. As he fully inspected the final damages, he couldn't help but notice the woman moving to stand side-by-side with him, her normally coffee-colored skin beginning to regain its glow with the aid of the added warmth of the cocoa in her hands.

"You know, you're letting them run pretty wild right now," Linda pointed out, the tone in her voice just the least bit probing.

"Ah, I assure you that I have endured a great deal worse, Miss West," Alfred replied, his sharp mind already anticipating what he would require in order to return the home he loved back to an acceptable state of. "If anything else, this will be a minor labor after the energies poured into the crafting of tonight's dinner."

The former reporter raised her eyebrows at the caretaker's response, intrigued by the humble words as a hypothesis began to form. "You sure there isn't another reason behind it?"

Alfred treated his inquisitor to an expected stare, the old man well aware that he could have never fooled the sharp-minded reporter. After all, she too had heard Stephanie's stories about having to fend for herself for so many of her past Christmases, the still sunny but nevertheless stinging tales of an overworked mother and an absent father and plates of macaroni and cheese drawing sympathy that the young Green Lantern was quick to bat aside from all that had attempted to provide it. The wizened manservant had spent long enough in large cities such as London and Gotham to form a strong grasp of what the less fortunate had to endure and was more than aware than most that such a life could do more damage than most people would ever care to admit. Likewise, both he and Linda had been able to hear Cecilia's loud ravings about Christmastime training sessions on the target range and other occasions where she would be forced or prompted by her overbearing mother to use her skill with the bow to entertain others over the holidays rather than stay at home at be entertained.

Moreover, they had both heard the two girls so frequently say how happy they would be to have a _normal _Christmas. A holiday with, to borrow Stephanie's words, "lame, overplayed music and corny television specials and a big, ass dinner that makes ya wanna puke afterwards".

"Yeah," Cecilia was quick to agree. "This is gonna be sweet."

Alfred shook his head back and forth as he realized that this was all worth it. However, the twisting of his neck and shoulders was soon cut short as Linda swept in and gave him a tender kiss on the cheek.

"You are a wonderful man," she said with as much honesty as she could muster.

Despite a long-standing history of emotional neutrality, Alfred could not help but try and fail to prevent a tender smile as a slight blush emerged upon his somewhat weathered cheeks. Managing to rein himself in properly in order to calmly accept Linda's equally kindhearted grin, he still found himself forced to look down to the messy ground in embarrassment as Linda began to pad her way back into the kitchen.

"I'll get the broom and dustpan," Linda volunteered on her way out. "And, just maybe, I can convince the girls to get their butts back in here and help us clean this up."

"Now that would be a true Christmas miracle," Alfred quickly countered, his mind already back to his duties.

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Before anyone asks, I most certainly did not come up with the song that Arrowette and Robin chose to sing. The song, appropriately titled _The Most Offensive Song Ever_, was originally released on the South Park Christmas album and is one of the many reasons that Matt Stone and Trey Parker are going to hell. In fact, my inclusion of the song into these stories has pretty much guaranteed me a spot in Satan's playground so, hey, if anyone needs some marshmallows toasted by hellfire than leave a review and I'll see if I can hook you up.

* * *

Chapter Four Preview

We'll travel from one side of America to the other another as we look in the holiday celebrations of Star City's most notable crime fighters. Will Roy Harper be able to maintain what remains of his sanity in the face of an argument between his adoptive father and Carter Hall? How long can little Lian keep the secret of where she and her father will be in the evening time? And just how in the hell could chili ever be considered a part of a Christmas Eve dinner?! Try and find out the answers to these questions in the next installment of _The Twelve Days of Misfits_: Familial Subterfuge. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	4. Familial Subterfuge

Chapter Four

Familial Subterfuge

_Star City – 2:19 P.M._

"I have bore witness to moments like these dozens of times before, you goateed little miscreant!" Carter Hall managed to bellow over the sound of the oven announcing that it was ready to be used for its previously assigned purpose. "The mass media's unwillingness to present your country's leader from a neutral perspective, when combined with the weakness in America's economic infrastructure, will cause your woes to merely worsen. Signs like these have been the forerunner for a kingdom's downfall for centuries now!"

"I tell ya that Obama and his team are gonna get us out of a whole lot of this shit!" Oliver Queen announced in response, the swashbuckling crime fighter known as Green Arrow swooping forward to claim the half-filled tray of cornbread mix from one of the surrounding counters before moving to place it into the open range. "I'm not sayin' it's gonna happen right away but, now that we've got the power, we're gonna use it the right way unlike you money grubbing fat cats!"

"Money grubbing?!" Hawkman spat back, the former Thangaarian police officer slamming down his half finished can of Budweiser onto the kitchen table with a loud _cruuunch _before moving to get another. "You know, it amazes me that you lot continue to say that we're addicted to money yet here all of you are, tossing your world's resources aside before you put any value into it just so you can save yourselves in the short term. In fact, should we forget, if it wasn't for Clinton's decision to open up trade agreements with China then your country wouldn't have such a massive trade deficit that would force America to go through a societal transition that its people wasn't the least bit prepared for!"

"China was gonna happen no matter what," Ollie interrupted while moving towards his beloved crock pot of Christmas chili. Picking up a can of lager with one hand and his stirring spoon with the other, the former Justice Leaguer took a quick, mighty sip before continuing with the increasingly noisy discussion. "Unlike that little brouhaha in Iraq that you boys started. . ."

"ALWAYS IRAQ!! You _always _bring up Iraq whenever you don't have anything smart to say!" Carter all but exploded, the livid words prompting Ollie to stir his chili with a smug, self-satisfaction. "You know, I don't see your liberal legislative branch making a lot of moves to get your troops out of that quagmire."

"Then you shouldn't have stuffed 'em in there in the first place and spent a bunch of billion dollars while doing it," Green Arrow replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "An' besides, this could all just be what the rest of the world needs to catch up with the great U.S. of A. We're tellin' the people what they need to hear: that we've been livin' too high on the hog for way too long and now it's time to change the way we think. An', hey, I think the country's first African-American president is a damn good place to start."

Hawkman rolled his eyes before taking another stiff drink from the can that Ollie had tossed to him only seconds before. "I suppose you may have a point, Queen," confessed the high-minded, conservative-thinking superhero.

Ollie raised his arms upward, shrugging his shoulders and extending his palms in a gesture of conciliation. "There. See?" he said politely while using his spoon to bring up a dollop of ground sirloin, red beans, and remnants of dozens of other tasty substances closer to his nose. "Doesn't it feel good to admit that you lost?"

"Screw you, you unthinking liberal!"

"Conservative fascist!"

Roy Harper finally turned himself away from the heated, soon to be even more nonsensical debate in the kitchen, the red-haired sharpshooter finally moving to hunker down onto one of the chairs clustered around the soon-to-be-busy kitchen table. Hearing the laughter to his left, the man known as Arsenal smiled as he saw Connor Hawke and Mia Dearden responding to all the goings on, the two crime fighting archers clearly enjoying the antics of their cantankerous father. As he saw the unrestrained joy and heard the carefree laughter from those who had somewhat followed in his footsteps, the original junior partner of Oliver Queen couldn't help but be forced to bite back a wave of jealousy. After all, they only had to deal with a handful of the old man's faults and foibles, the more dangerous ones having already been weeded out through the passage of time. They wouldn't be insulted just a bit too harshly or pushed a wee bit too hard or abandoned at a time when they needed help the most.

_You've learned from your mistakes, old man_, Roy thought while turning his eyes and thoughts back to the flawed fellow that had done so much to and for him. _In spite of everything in the past, I'm proud of you right now._

"You know, I hate to say it but I think it's actually a little quieter than usual."

Arsenal couldn't help but agree as he turned to watch Dinah Laurel Lance take the seat beside him. Looking as warm and caring as she always appeared in his eyes, Roy chuckled while giving the woman known as Black Canary a nod of agreement. "How in the hell did Hawkman get an invite anyway?"

Dinah's first response was a small, familiar smile tinged slightly by a note of equally recognizable sympathetic sadness. "I think Ollie was worried about how Carter would feel during Christmas without Kendra around."

Roy raised an eyebrow at that, the corner of his right eye moving briefly to make a perfunctory check on his daughter. "You know, I haven't been able to take as many trips to the superhero gossip well as I used to but I seem to recall hearing about Carter hooking up with Power Girl."

The Black Canary quirked her lips at that, the veteran superhero and former member of The Justice Society of America still finding herself amused by the formation and growth of the truly unusual but oddly appropriate couple. "I think we both know how hard it can be to forget about someone you love."

Roy shifted his lips to the left as well, his surprisingly sober mind contemplating just how many ways that statement could have been interpreted. "Well, as noisy and alcohol-filled as this has turned out to be," he pointed out. "We've had worst Christmases while under the roof of one Oliver Jonas Queen."

Dinah nodded in agreement. "Yeah, like the one after he threw you out of the house and insisted that he just wanted to be left alone."

"Or that year in Seattle and all that business with him cheating on you with Shado and Marianne."

"Or the year he wasn't here."

Dinah and Roy turned to face each other upon the shared realization that they had said the same thing at nearly the same time. Giving each other a familiar stare, the two of them rolled their eyes before returning their minds back towards happier thoughts.

"You look. . . content," Dinah noted, the simple words delivered as if there were fairly few discoveries that could have made her any happier.

"I really think I am," Roy confessed with an almost childish smile. "I mean, don't get me wrong, life isn't perfect in Gotham but, hey, I've got a purpose again." The sharpshooter suddenly felt the need to stop but the small, engaging smile on Black Canary's face prompted him to keep going. "I had myself stuck in a rut for so long that I started thinking that I couldn't be anything else except the absentee father or the glorified cop who got sent to the hospital on a weekly basis. Kinda weird that somebody like me could move up from that."

"Don't you ever think that little of yourself," Dinah said crossly, the serious glare in her bright, blue eyes hanging on for just a moment more before moving to sport another winning grin. "And besides, that probably beats being the insecure lady who hangs out in the flower shop and gives one of the heroes a kiss on the cheek after all the nasty bad guys have been locked away."

"Well, you've got a point there," Roy confessed just before being forced to weather a friendly punch to the shoulder courtesy of one of the world's premier hand-to-hand fighters. "And, if I may say so, I think you've come a long way away from that, Miss Chairwoman of the mighty Justice League of America."

Black Canary rolled her baby blues once again, her right hand moving to swipe back an errant bit of barely bleached blonde hair. "Iiiiiii'm beginning to think that it's just a title, my boy," she confessed with barely a hint of sourness. "Especially with The Boy Scout and Xena always around to give their 'friendly advice'," she added while scrunching up her fingers and adding some air quotes to the proceedings. "Still, it's a great chance for me to really test my limits. Show the world what I can really do, you know?"

"Oh yeah, believe me when I say that I know all about it," Roy replied with a perceptive smile, the fact that he had shared intentions with the woman who had made certain he never fell too far making him feel truly proud. "Merry Christmas, Mom."

Dinah smiled and let out a grunt as she warmly accepted the hug that Roy had to give her. Of course, as was her way, she had to take a moment to fight back the urge to jump out of her seat and run around the room like an idiot in response to the giddiness she felt from seeing her adopted son looking so at peace with himself. Perhaps it was that need to rein in her emotions that left her occupied enough to be surprised by the small figure crashing into her left side, a pair of familiar arms wrapping around her back as she was accosted by yet another person who happened to be on her short list of favorite people.

"Hi, Grandma Canary!" greeted Lian Harper, the young lady quick to break away from Connor, Mia, the song stylings of Yukon Cornelius, and everything else there to be seen within Ollie's bright and noisy living room. Much like her father would in times like these, the copper-skinned youth held a hint of wickedness in her coal-black eyes, a sparkle no doubt caused by her success in harmlessly startling her father and grandmother. And, just as Lian had hoped, her father responded by sighing and breaking away from the embrace, thus allowing Dinah to have enough room to swoop her granddaughter into her arms before placing Lian onto her lap.

"You know, pumpkin," said Dinah while smoothing out the hair on top of the girl's head. "You better be happy that I let you get away with calling me that."

Lian let out a very childish giggle upon receiving a noisy buss on the cheek from the woman she had accosted only seconds ago. That being said, any inclination to feel apologetic for her past behavior was quickly blunted by her desire to get something else that she wanted.

"Can we go home now, dad?"

Dinah and Roy both laughed loudly at that, if only to prevent anyone who might have taken offense to such a question from hearing it.

"Oh, sweetie," Dinah cooed while giving the raven-haired youth a playful noogie. "You are home. Just try and make the best of it."

"And no worries, princess," Roy warned upon seeing his daughter roll her eyes in response to her sudden change in treatment. "We can still use the Justice League's new transporters to get us back in plenty of time _and _be back here tomorrow to open up presents."

Roy's daughter seemed satisfied with the response, much to Dinah and Roy's relief. That being said, it didn't appear that everyone was in full agreement with the busy itinerary, at least judging from the look on the face of the man stomping out of the kitchen.

"You know, I still don't understand what's gotta be so god damned important that my own son and granddaughter have got to shuffle off right after dinner," Green Arrow broke in as he placed a tin of cranberry pie decidedly close to his long-assigned seat. "I mean, what happened to spending Christmas with your family? What could be so damn important in that little hellhole you're takin' up in? It's not like you're hangin' out in Wayne Manor or something, thank freakin' God!"

"Lian and Roy have promised that they'll be back here for Christmas morning," Dinah interrupted, the woman wise to break in before Roy could throw his own feelings into the mix. "So quit all the whining and go back to making dinner and drinking beer."

The former mayor of Star City paused to give his lady love's idea a bit of thought, the fingers of his now unencumbered left hand stroking his well-structured goatee almost out of instinct. Apparently satisfied with the idea, the roguish vigilante was quick to kiss Dinah on the cheek before returning to his much-beloved duties.

"You're lucky I'm fond of you, 'Pretty Bird'," Ollie said with his back turned to his still anxious audience.

Dinah, in response, rolled her eyes for the fourth time in as many minutes before whispering, "I am soooooo glad I didn't marry that weirdo."

"You're not the only one," Roy replied as he watched his daughter curiously observe the conversation taking place. His attention to reading the response left him slightly surprised as Dinah hefted herself out of her chair, her arms still entangled with Lian's arms and legs, the sight of his two favorite ladies forcing him to smile.

"Tell Bruce I said hi," Dinah whispered before carrying Lian back to the living room.

Watching in stunned disbelief as the closest thing he ever had to a mother gave him a playful wink, Roy suddenly realized that his cover was both ridiculously blown and safer than he ever thought possible.

And then he went to get a beer.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Don't ask me how the political conversation between Carter and Ollie got as detailed as it did. I swear, I was just looking for an excuse to write an argument between those two guys and, much like so much of what I write, it exploded into the wordy cavalcade you now see before you. That being said, I hope all of you are enjoying all of this because I'm having a good time writing it. It's taking a bit more time than I figured but still, it's a labor of love. Speaking of which, let's get to tomorrow's story.

* * *

Chapter Five Preview

We now turn to The House of Secrets, a peculiar home that most of us would probably be quite happy to get away from at any time of year, let alone this one. However, the daughter of Vandal Savage is having trouble taking her leave, especially with a potentially risky proposition and her memories of holidays past already on her psychological table. Can Scandal's best friend convince her to make a decision? Will Scandal learn to overcome her fears in order to take the steps to enjoy life once again? And just how did Ragdoll get all of that blood out of his clothes? Tune in to find out the answers to some of these questions in the next installment of _The Twelve Days of Christmas_: Deck the Halls with Boughs and Entrails. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	5. Deck the Halls with Boughs and Entrails

Chapter Five

Deck the Halls with Boughs and Entrails

_The House of Secrets – 3:38 P.M. _

"You know you're running out of decent excuses."

Scandal Savage let out a weary groan in response to hearing the unwanted revelation, the auburn-haired immortal and leader of The Secret Six wrapping her right hand across her forehead before tapping her throbbing temple with her extended thumb. The move was designed to not only relieve her frustrations but also served as a failed attempt to pull away from the question launched by the man who had, seemingly against quite the high odds, had become her best friend and most stalwart companion. This gentlemen, his usual orange and brown battle armor temporarily abandoned in favor of a warm sweater and a somewhat clean pair of slacks, remained quite unaffected by her dodging, his green eyes narrowing in amusement while resisting the urge to smile.

"Thomas, don't you think that this would all be quite uncomfortable for me?" Scandal asked rather rationally, her previously encumbered right hand now waving around in a circular motion as she struggled to come up with the right words she could use to properly explain itself. "I mean, it isn't as if there isn't anything else for me to do! I've already got my hands full analyzing the logistics for the rendezvous in Brussels and the operation opening up in Guandong. . ."

"And that's all stuff that can be handled just as easily in a couple days," interrupted Thomas Blake, the former disgraced criminal and current master tracker known to the "super" community as Catman not looking the least bit hurt when his response prompted his friend and boss to grunt and turn away. "Maybe even until the start of the year if you ever learned how to get rid of this addiction to your work."

"Well, somebody's got to do it!" Scandal yelled back. "What with you running off to Star City and Fries busy with his experiments and Cassandra already leaving for Gotham!"

"What about Ragdoll?" Catman asked while somehow managing to keep a straight face.

"I think we learned enough of a lesson from the last time we trusted Merkel with a ball-point pen and a laptop," the daughter of Vandal Savage drawled out slowly and angrily as Thomas shook his head in amusement. "For the life of me, I still can't figure out how those red stains got all the way onto the ceiling."

"You're dodging again, boss," Thomas not so helpfully reminded his esteemed leader. "The Black Dog wants to spend some of the holidays with you, Cass is already going, and I still think you're tough enough to handle at least one night in one of the most expensive mansions on the Eastern seaboard."

Always one to spot a potential opening, Scandal raised her eyebrows as a gleam cut across her jade-colored eyes. "Well, if the trip sounds so palatable then why shouldn't you come along with me? After all, you may have a couple hours after dinner to check in on one Helena Bertinelli. . ."

Thomas Blake raised an eyebrow in defiance of his friend's bald-faced accusation, the big game hunter not looking the least bit ruffled. "I'm not seeing her again until New Year's," he coolly replied. "Christmas at Star City takes precedent for me, just like Christmas at Wayne Manor should take precedent for you."

Scandal let out another sigh as her surprisingly aware compatriot continued to fix her down with a patient stare. "You know, I'm starting to miss the Catman who had a hard enough time talking to his lions, much less other people."

"I'd still rather talk to my pride," Thomas answered rather matter-of-factly, a sliver of his thoughts once again going out to the noble beasts that had helped restore meaning to what was once his pathetic existence. "Be that as it may, that doesn't mean that I can't hang out with a handful of obnoxious humans every now and again."

Scandal gave her friend a somewhat gentle smile, the assassin, current mercenary, and former student of Mao Tenryu slowly growing more comfortable with talking about what was truly on her mind. To his credit, Catman remained tolerant of his friend's hedging, the red-haired vigilante pretending to pay a hint of attention to the ragged travel bag at his feet as he awaited what was to come with a hunter's steady patience.

"This isn't just me and my little brother spending the holidays together. This is Lloyd and everybody else he's somehow managed to bring into his life." Scandal paid little attention to the slight upward tilt of Thomas's eyes as she continued her toil of saying what she was feeling in a way she wanted to say it. "And. . . and some of those people still look at me and think that I'm just someone with a wanted list and a rather nasty history."

"Batman doesn't think that way," Blake hastily countered. "Neither does Kara."

"I could care less about what Kara thinks of me," Scandal snapped, the retort coming in a bit too quick and bitter to be taken as the truth. "I'm. . . I just don't know if I'm ready for something like this."

Normally satisfied with the rewards of a successful hunt, Blake couldn't help but feel a little guilt from where he had placed his quarry. Never comfortable with dealing with the uncomfortable thoughts of others, he struggled to come up with any words that he could employ to comfort his comrade. However, as he was doing so, another denizen of the mysterious mansion made his presence felt, a man who was significantly less reserved than the two brooding figures already populating the luxurious main conference room.

"Salutations and many happy days for us all," exclaimed Ragdoll, the psychotic contortionist bounding into the room with a series of flips and twirls. "I would offer the both of you some figgy pudding but I hear that such confections are exceedingly dangerous for your colon if not prepared properly."

Eager to turn their thoughts elsewhere, Blake and Scandal both looked down to cast a judicious glare at the dandy man of their motley crew. Of course, it didn't take long at all for either of the mercenaries to notice that Ragdoll appeared to be sporting quite the colorful necklace around his hyper extended neck. The grisly choker appeared to be made out of some unfortunate soul's ileum, the rather important part of a former human's digestive tract still festooned with dried blood and bile. To his credit, Merkel had appeared to put a bit of effort into making it look festive, the springs of holly and poinsettia leaves that had been either stapled or taped on and around the string of dead human muscle leaving the disgusting thing with a bit of visceral Christmas cheer.

"I'm naturally a little afraid to ask, Ragdoll," Scandal said with a well-practiced calmness, "but just where did you manage to get a hold of that?"

Peter Merkel Jr. took a moment to look down at his neckwear, a simple task given that his many past surgeries enabled him to bend his neck in a variety of unnatural, disgusting looking angles. "Oh, this is merely one of my many souvenirs I collected from those child-selling fellows we found during our field trip to Libya," he replied calmly, the former member of Batman's rogues gallery speaking in a tone that most would use for discussing their holiday snaps. "I am particularly pleased with how well my dear monkeys have managed to preserve it. . ."

"THAT WAS TWO MONTHS AGO!!" Scandal bellowed, the fetching murderess wisely avoiding any discussion of primate-based perpetuation before swerving her head to look at Thomas once again. "See, this is the reason why I need to stay behind!" she announced while thrusting her left ring finger at their bizarre cohort. "We can't just leave him unsupervised."

"Fries is already staying here," Catman replied patiently, his movements already taking him away from Ragdoll, Scandal, and the smell of dead body parts and towards Star City. "Nobody's asking you to become a Girl Scout or one of the white hats," he added just a couple of footsteps later. "All that your brother wants is for you to have a shot at not thinking about all the things you don't want to think about but keep on thinking about anyway."

Scandal let out a frown while watching her insightful friend make his exit, the corner of her left eye staying well aware of the fact that Ragdoll was coming her way. "Kind of strange hearing something like that from such a devout redemptionist," she fired back with a bit of a shout.

"Well, I can't be a badass all the time," Blake pointed out without even bothering to turn around. "'Cause then I'd just be an asshole. Merry Christmas, you guys."

"Merry Christmas, Thomas!" Ragdoll shouted back cheerily, his disjointed left arm waving in a manner so spastic and furtive that it caused one of his sprigs of holly to fall from his wreath. "Oh, dear. Perhaps I should employ some hot glue."

Taking a moment to carefully collect her thoughts as well as her stomach acids, Scandal did her best to avoid the horrific stench around her friend's neck. "Just why are you here, Merkel?"

The question was rather sharp and understandably critical. Ragdoll, however, seemed to give little notice to all the harshness as he hopped up onto the ornate conference table that dominated the center of the room. The strong wood barely let out a creak at the impact of his 92-pound frame pouncing upon it, the slab of oak and mahogany staying equally silent as Merkel slid his right leg up and over the back of his neck. "I was merely struck with my memories of how dear Kay had enjoyed the holiday season," he replied with only a smidge of whimsy, a slight note of seriousness in the man's usually jocular tone. "Particularly her zeal with which she engaged in the ritualistic turkey mutilation."

Scandal couldn't help but let out a hint of a laugh at the words and the unwilling recollection that followed. Of course, that only allowed the source of her true hesitance to lay in front of her even barer than it was before. It was pointless to deny that it hurt her heart to remember the warmth that had been in her lover's eyes when she had told Kay about Christmas and her past celebrations with Lloyd, Mao, and Nigel. The pleasant warmth in her belly that she had felt as Kay held her in front of the roaring fire just a year before, the strength she drew from being willingly trapped within such a steady but tender grip, just seemed so cold to her as she turned her mind to regard it, the pain behind it quickly prompting her to turn her mind's eye away as quickly as possible.

It was too late. She could see her long red hair, remember her roaring spirit, her love of life, and her utter devotion towards dragging an emotionally bitter mercenary back out into the world she had sought to run away from. Her lover could have received so much from her newly adopted home but she somehow chose her, out of everything else. Why did she do such a thing? Why did she have to be taken from her before she could even ask?

"There, there," Ragdoll said rather soothingly as Scandal fought the desire to break down. "Dear Knockout would never have wanted to see you like this. She would not want her poppet to spend times like these wrapped up in such painful memories! She would want you to be happy and functionally insane and ready to kill things once the peace of the holidays are over and done! That is what the holidays are truly all about!"

Letting a gush of nonsensical laughter escape from her heart, Scandal took a moment to regard her unsettling friend. Finally, after a couple of silent seconds, she finally gave Merkel a small, steady smile, a gesture that prompted Ragdoll to give her a far broader grin in return.

"Thank you for that," she said sincerely, her small, strong hands momentarily brushing through Ragdoll's almost impossibly stringy red hair. "Are you gonna be all right on your own?"

Ragdoll quirked his head to one side as if he were stunned that such a horrific fate would fall to him. "Alone, my dear? Nonsense and poppycock! I will always have my monkeys! As a matter of fact, we shall be performing our rendition of _A Christmas Carol _later this evening. The George C. Scott version, of course, since we all agree that the Patrick Stewart version is far too gaudy."

Scandal, just as she had done dozens of times before, gave Ragdoll a slow, cautious nod.

"Welllllllll," she said in a rather deliberate fashion. "You just let me know how that works out."

"Will do!" Ragdoll cried back as Scandal left to go pack a suitcase.

Misfits Confidential

Man! Nearly 13,000 words in five days? Whose bright idea was it to write a story like this?! Oh. . . yeah. . . it was mine. Still, it never would have happened if some of my dozens and dozens of fans hadn't been asking for it. That's right, Shawn! You too, Leigh! My exhaustion is ALL YOUR FAULT!! Because of you, I won't be able to enjoy the holidays so there!

(Stands there looking petulant before realizing that there isn't a single, possible soul reading this story that could possibly see him looking petulant).

Aw, who am I kidding. Here's the next chapter preview.

Chapter Six Preview

So just where was Noah Kuttler planning on going just a couple hours before the big Christmas Eve dinner? Well, perhaps it's not the most appropriate of times for a game of chess but, still, when your prospective opponent is locked up in Blackgate, you have to take your opportunities when you can get them. Tune in as The Misfits' resident computer wonk gets some time to work on his emotional baggage in the next installment of _The Twelve Days of Misfits_: Black Kingside Rook to c2. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	6. Black Kingside Rook to e5

Chapter Six

Black Kingside Rook to e5

_Blackgate Penitentiary – Cell 237B_

Noah Kuttler's usage of the classic Alapin variation of the Sicilian defense had, at least so far, proven to be a wise choice. Indeed, the time-honored mixture of pawn defense and striking from the sides had provided a more than suitable countermeasure for his opponent's occasionally overaggressive style. Recognizing that he could soon claim victory if he only made the right decisions, the man known to some as The Calculator pondered over the ivory-colored pawns as he analyzed just where and when he would choose to stymie his foe's latest maneuver. He gave barely a whit of attention to the impatient sigh that spilled from the lips of the man across from him as he moved to pluck his spectacles off of the bridge of his nose. As he had been often prone to do in the past and would continue to do so in the future, his hand quickly reached for his ever-present handkerchief that seemed to always be available for a quick cleaning session or a comfortable stalling for time.

"You know, you would think that a man of your intelligence would be able to recognize such an obvious psychological pattern," Noah's opponent informed him with a lazy drawl. "Especially given that it's something you've been doing for damn near thirty years now."

Noah said nothing as he placed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. Taking hold of his queenside rook, he moved the frequently busy piece closer to the center of the board while simultaneously capturing yet another of his opponent's pawns.

"I apologizing for not paying note to the psychological foible," Noah replied coolly while removing yet another captured piece from the board. "Perhaps I was simply too occupied with the joy that naturally comes with an oncoming victory."

The man on the black side of the board only grunted as he quickly used one of his pawns to take the attacking rook. Though he knew that the move was nothing but a stopgap measure, the incarcerated criminal took a hint of pleasure from plucking the obnoxious castle off of the board with his fast fingers and leaving his rival with yet another opening to make a critical mistake. Noah, in response, gave a concessionary nod of approval before pondering over which of his previously anticipated moves he should make.

"You know, I couldn't help but notice that you've yet to fulfill your end of the bargain," Noah said as his long fingers hovered above the chessboard as if the hacker was attempting to sense which of his pieces wanted to be employed the most. "I have supplied a ripe supply of Christmas stories and memories in hope that you would supply some of your own in return and yet I have been kept waiting."

"Then perhaps you should tell me another one of yours," the other man replied while impatiently crossing his muscular arms across his chest. "Perhaps that will allow the mood to strike me properly."

Noah gave a wistful shake of his head as he finally got some use out of his king's side knight's pawn. "Very well," he relented while sitting back in his chair. "Do you remember how much Bruce would cajole us to go out sledding with him?" the computer expert asked while already chuckling at the mess of memories. Meanwhile, on the other side of the board, his conversation and chess partner groaned at the shared recollection. "He always wanted to look for the highest, steepest hill he could find and he'd never stop talking about what he found until the both of us went down with him."

"I remember you needed a bit more cajoling than I," Noah's opponent added while using one of his few remaining pawns to eliminate the piece that The Calculator had just chosen to play. "When was it that we took a trip down the bluff and you fell and broke you arm?"

Noah hummed as he lost quite a bit of himself in thought while still keeping a small portion of his mind still focused on the other game they were playing. "I still remember wearing the cast when I first went to Breckinridge so. . . I was eight and you and Bruce were seven."

"That sounds about right," the other man responded while somewhat patiently awaiting his colleague's counter. "You weren't exactly happy when I started laughing at all that happened."

"No, I most certainly was not," Noah replied rather matter-of-factly while putting his queen in a position where he hoped his adversary would attempt to attack it. "Of course, you've always had a rich history of finding amusement and profit at others' expenses."

Thomas Elliot didn't even grunt or grumble while taking Noah's bait, the patricidal former doctor moving his kingside knight in a manner that would allow him to corner Noah's most powerful weapon. "Do you still want to hear my most memorable Christmas memory, Noah?" asked the murdering mastermind who had quickly become known as Hush to those within the darker parts of Gotham City. "I remember when my mother would keep me locked away in the kitchen or in my room because she couldn't trust anyone else to look after her. I remember receiving letters from you or Bruce about what you were doing at some wonderful resort or some other far away paradise while I would remain locked away from the world."

"Yes, you most certainly had such a stressful upbringing," Noah said rather dully while pondering over whether to press the attack with his rook or continue to shore up his defenses with his already busy queenside bishop. "Receiving your education at the most prestigious academies on the Eastern seaboard, receiving a full ride to Harvard Medical School courtesy of the trust fund your father had established for you before his. . . untimely demise."

The hacker was wise to shift his sights away from his old friend as Thomas's handsome features twisted themselves into a nasty glower. Instead, he focused his attention upon his bishop as the piece put pressure on its ebony colored counterpart. "Yes, I can certainly see how you've suffered," he added while once again leaning back in the cold, metal chair that Thomas's jailers had been kind enough to provide for him.

"Don't mock me, Kuttler," Thomas Elliot warned his second oldest friend, the degree of menace within his voice quite significant as he placed his queen in a path that would enable him to soon eliminate the current head of his rival's offensive. "You were fortunate enough to have your parents die young. Your freedom was bequeathed to you before you even had any idea of what to do with it."

Noah had many an angry comment prepared for such a vulgar response. His memories of his mother, the woman who doubtlessly would have wanted nothing more than to see her son become a good man, confined to a hospital bed at the age of 45 thanks to the ravages of cervical cancer was comfortably on top of that list. His memories of watching her grow frail and deathly pale from the rigors of chemotherapy and the effects of a monster determined to tear her apart from the inside out were already tempting him to try and strangle the life out of a man who could have easily beaten him senseless with only a minimum of effort. His father's death was an equally powerful memory, the tragedy far more sudden but no less tragic. More importantly, the aneurysm that shattered his old man's anterior cerebral artery had left behind a 15-year-old orphan looking for any way that he could have found that could have kept it all from happening.

What could he have learned to take care of the people who cared for him?

"You know, this was hardly the warm and endearing moment I was searching for as I came here to visit you," Noah somehow managed to coolly reply while moving his queenside bishop in a place where it could better take on its foe.

"You came here to judge me and flaunt your supposed superiority in a place where you knew you couldn't be struck back," Hush quickly fired back while once again moving his queenside bishop to counter his opponent's strike. "And, lest we forget, that's something that _you _have a rich history of doing."

"I'm not here to judge you," Noah said quietly while moving his kingside knight into a sacrificial position. He didn't even so much as raise an eyebrow as Tommy quickly took the horse-shaped piece with the aid of his remaining bishop. "I'm here to understand you," he clarified while taking the previously hostile piece off the board with the aid of another of his still many remaining pawns. "I want to understand how you would hate Bruce for doing only what little a boy could do to reach out to someone in need."

"Those who help others in need are only those who feel guilty about all they have and don't deserve," Hush all but hissed while finally removing his opponent's pesky bishop with some clever use of his black knight. "For example, you're here because you recognize that you have committed crimes that are just as grievous and damaging to Bruce and the rest of society but, here you sit, a free man on behalf of our childhood friend and the generous spirit of the American government."

"I also didn't blatantly murder three police officers and hold another for hostage on top of the tallest building in Star City," The Calculator countered while continuing to establish his trap by moving his pawns ever closer to their demise. "Forgive me but I was thought to believe that most law enforcement authorities tend to frown upon such practices."

"Chide all you want to, Noah," Hush fired back with a hint of warning, "but the fact remains that I rot away in confinement while you are allowed to continue your own, pathetic little attempt for redemption within the confines of Wayne Manor." The former doctor let out a dangerous smile as he watched Noah bring the white queen closer and closer towards an eventual attacking position. "Your subconscious realizes that this is an unfair fate and you are here to placate your own ego while attempting to soothe your soul at the same time," he continued while placing his kingside rook in a position that would force Noah's queen to divert its path.

"And here I thought you were a simple ear, nose, and throat man," Noah said shrewdly while moving to keep his queen safe. "I honestly had no idea that I was speaking with a true master of the human mind's subconscious response to personal ethos."

Hush only grunted as he continued to harass Noah's queen. However, his dark rumbling soon turned into an open hiss as Noah sprang his trap, the bespectacled hacker moving his kingside rook across the board to place the black king in check while simultaneously keeping his queen safe from harm.

"And, to counter your accusation, I did not come here seeking another stepping stone for redemption," Noah opposed his judgment while waiting for Tommy's move on the chessboard. "In fact, I'm still not certain if I could be redeemed for all I've done. However, since we're on this line of thought, I would like to point out a distinct difference between the two of us."

"And that difference would be?" Hush asked while dully moving his king to safety.

"Though we both suffered enough to prompt us to have one part of ourselves get ahead of the other," Noah began to answer while wondering just how he wanted to go about his business, "you allowed your emotions to get so far ahead that your mind couldn't control them whereas my thirst for knowledge prompted my mind to get ahead of my heart."

"Such a heartwarming epiphany," Hush growled as he rushed to bring his queen over to properly defend his beleaguered leader.

"The heart will always hold sway over the mind, my friend. No matter how hard you try." Noah went on as he countered Tommy's offensive with his own queen. "Unfortunately for you, fate made certain that the consequences for your failure to learn that lesson were slightly higher than mine."

"I don't believe in fate," Thomas fired back, his Aristotelian philosophical background shining bright as he sprung a trap of his own. In a brilliant move of pure offense, he moved his queen in a position that allowed him to not only place Noah's king in check but also leave him in a perfect position to take the white queen on the very next turn. "For example, fate will have nothing to do with me leaving this place one day. Nor will it have anything to do with my making certain to rid the world of our entirely ungrateful former friend."

Noah merely raised his eyebrows, his eyes still locked onto the smug expression on his old friend's face as he calmly moved his king out of danger. The computer expert barely paid even an ounce of attention to his old friend's quick countermove, his old eyes locked on the malicious intent in the eyes and thoughts of what was once a good friend. Without looking down at the war beneath him, he placed his long fingers around his kingside rook, moving the piece in a position where it could aid the white knight in ensnaring the black king.

The look in Tommy's eyes clearly said that he didn't see it coming.

"And I will be there to stop you," Noah replied while quickly rising to his feet. He didn't bother trying to watch his own back as he took his leave, the former criminal and unknowing accessory to the murder of Jack Drake well aware that his friend would think that this was not the time or place to do such things.

"Merry Christmas, Tommy," Noah said softly while waiting for one of the guards to open the door. "Feel free to keep the board."

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Yes, I know the whole war over the chessboard thing is about as trite of a metaphor as you can get but I've always wanted to do it and these were the characters to do it with. However, I will apologize for the fact that this chapter is coming in a little later than expected. Once again, though, I'm going to try my damndest to get this done before Santa shows up on your rooftops. This, of course, means that I'm going to have to do some multiple updates on a couple days just to get this done. Hope that works out for you guys. Of course, feel free to review if you either agree or disagree with this plan. Or just want to tell me what you think or suggest any ideas for future one-shots! It's all good.

* * *

Chapter Seven Preview

So just why was Nightwing waiting for Kara and Lloyd in the first place? And just what the hell are Dick and Lloyd doing taking off their clothes in the closet?! Find out the answers to those questions along with a whole other heaping of bizarre visuals in the next installment of _The Twelve Days of Misfits_: The Horrors of Holiday Snapshots. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	7. The Horrors of Holiday Snapshots

Chapter Seven

The Horrors of Holiday Snapshots

_Gotham Galleria – 4:36 P.M._

"Lloyd, I'm, _ungh, _telling you," Dick Grayson declared while letting out a noticeable grunt. "There's no way that I'm gonna be able to even fit my head in there, much less the rest of it."

"Oh, quit you're bloody whingin'," The Black Dog spat back as he let out an awkward groan of his own. "'S not like I've got things any easier 'ere!"

"Well, at least what you're doin' has a little bit of dignity to it," the man known to some as Nightwing fired back as he continued to stumble about while looking for a place to fit his feet within the narrow confines of the closet. "I'm just gonna look like an ass in front of all those people!"

"Look, you wanted a way to get the job done right, yeah?" Lloyd attempted to assure his older colleague while bending over a bit more in order to make his current job just a little bit easier. "I know it seems silly but this could work out better for everybody involved."

Dick let out a surrendering sigh as he finally got everything in order, his entire body now ready to take on the unusual and significantly awkward task ahead of him. "Okay, I guess I'm ready," he said with a bit of hesitance. "You ready, Lloyd?"

"I think so," Lloyd replied with his own hint of caution.

Dick and Lloyd emerged from their separate dressing chambers almost simultaneously as if acting on some unknown cue. They looked each other over, the both of them not certain to be marveled, amused, or disturbed by what their eyes beheld. Nightwing was the first to move, his neck tilting to one side as he took in Lloyd's rose-like cheeks, his nose like a cherry, his droll little mouth drawn up like a bow, and the beard on his chin that was white as the snow.

"Huh," Nightwing mused while giving his younger friend another onceover. "Well, I've got to admit that you make a pretty decent Saint Nicholas," he confessed while watching Lloyd give a pat to his suddenly hefty belly. "I'm guessing you put a little bit of human transfiguration into the works?"

Lloyd nodded while taking a moment to examine his clothes, satisfied that they were not at all tarnished with ashes and soot. "Yeah. That and a bit of padding I filched from Pennyworth's prop cabinet."

"It looks good," Dick said again, the older man admiring his friend's commitment to his work. "It makes you look like you actually have both fat and muscle instead of just skin and bone like usual."

"Shut yer 'ole," The Black Dog half-heartedly spat back. "And I wouldn't be throwin' stones if I were you, 'specially considerin' the getup you've got on ya."

"Hey, now," Dick said with just a hint of defensiveness while taking his own outfit in. Though he had to admit that the glass ornaments festooned all over the front and sides were a bit much, he did think that the forest green and dark brown foam and latex that was suppose to substitute as his leaves and branches were not only tastefully colored but also quite comfortable. The ankle straps designed to keep his legs close so that he could better resemble a tree trunk would probably have been a bit uncomfortable for most people but for him, a man whose adopted father had once forced him to stand on the high edge of a precipice for six straight hours on just one foot, it was a mild inconvenience.

"Like you said before, this could be a lot worse," Dick mentioned again while thinking about that particularly shoddy Christmas memory. Of course, it probably never would've happened if he hadn't went and set fire to the nativity scene in the front yard with the gasoline and the M80. . .

"Not sure about that particular theory anymore, mate," Lloyd interrupted his friend's train of thought with more than a hint of uncertainty in his usually sure voice. "Ya look like the world's most outta control Chia Pet."

"HEY! I AM NOT A CHIA PET!!" Dick fired back with a surprising amount of emotion behind it, the young detective appalled that his friend would say such a thing. "I am Ferny, the magical Christmas tree, and, for the next couple of hours, you're just going to have to accept that."

"As you command, good sir. Or good fern as the case may be." Lloyd replied as the two men shared a smile that could only be divided up by two people that had jointly realized that they were in a truly stupid situation. Still, wishing to add a bit more solidarity to the proceedings, the former assassin and current second-in-command of The Misfits walked steadily toward the third dressing chamber and rapped his gloved left fist against the door. "Oi, luv! Ya ready in there?"

"No," came the quick and grouchy reply from behind the solid piece of wood.

"Awww, come on, pet," Lloyd needled, the young man risking the utterance of his girlfriend's most hated pet name for her. "It can't be as bad as what we've gotta go through."

"I'm not coming out," Kara insisted, her response packing quite a bit of stern resolve.

"Kare Bear," Nightwing added while moving towards the decidedly shut door, his glass and plastic ornaments bouncing and jostling along with him, "this whole going undercover thing to root out whatever's causing these disturbances was your idea."

"My _idea _did not include wearing this!" Kara countered with a growl. "You guys just go handle things out there and I'll just wait in here 'til the action starts."

Dick and Lloyd looked at one another, the two men understandably cautious about where to go next while trapped within this particular minefield. After a few seconds of perilous thought, Lloyd shrugged his shoulders and, displaying quite a bit of foolhardy courage, continued to venture forward.

"Come on, luv," the British Santa Claus said with a low, heartfelt hum. "Where would good ol' Saint Nick be without his Missus Claus, yeah?"

Dick raised an eyebrow at Lloyd's intriguing maneuver, the ensuing sound of a tired sigh from the other side of the door not the least bit of a surprise to him.

Of course, that previous startle easily paled in comparison to what was to come upon Kara opening the door. You see, because Kara Zor-el emerged in an outfit that the wife of Saint Nicholas would have most likely never have worn even at her most sex-starved. It was nothing more than a jaunty holiday hat, a strapped halter top that was cut about three inches short of her waist and sported a great deal of white fur around the chest, and a skirt that bottomed off at around six or seven inches above the woman's knees. She had done her best to hide her belly with the aid of the large belt she had managed to nick from her boyfriend's temporary wardrobe but even her best efforts couldn't stop a hint of her belly button to peek out from the middle of the outfit that didn't even appear to try to cover all that The Last Daughter of Krypton had expected to keep hidden.

Fortunately for him, Dick didn't need to try to turn himself invisible since Kara's eyes were all on Lloyd.

"It's a belly shirt, Lloyd," the half-Kryptonian said through gritted teeth.

Lloyd gave her a truly sympathetic smile.

"And a mini skirt," Kara added.

"I know, luv."

Kara raised her eyebrows in a hostile manner, a clear sign saying that the love of her life had _better _know. "It was hard enough to get out of my first belly shirt and dishrag dress," she went on while trying her best to remain calm. "NOW I'VE GOT TO FUCKING WEAR ANOTHER ONE?!"

"Kara," Nightwing said with a quiet hiss. "The kids are waiting right outside. . ."

"Oh, shut your hole, _Ferny_," Kara spat back while allowing Lloyd to wrap her up in a warm hug. "I don't wanna wear another mini skirt."

Lloyd couldn't help but smile as he nuzzled the woman in his arms while brushing his lips against the top of her head. "It won't be for long, Kara. After that, your wish will be my command for the rest of the holidays, right?"

"Yeah, and look at the bright side," Nightwing added with what he hoped to be a winning grin. "Something tells me all the 11 and 12-year-old boys out there won't be looking to sit on Lloyd's lap anymore. . . AGHHH!"

As one could guess, the inappropriate hypothesis was quickly cut off with a stiff punch to Nightwing's shoulder, the angry Mrs. Claus pulling her punch so that the raven-haired man wouldn't go flying through the nearby brick wall. Of course, Dick's pained response caused Lloyd to let out a spurt of laughter, the reaction prompting Kara to turn and slug her accidentally insensitive boyfriend in the shoulder as well. A few seconds passed as the three of them, perhaps the most mature of the heir apparents of the superhero community, nursed the wounds they had inflicted upon each other.

"All right, we've survived everything Stephanie's ever thrown at us. We can survive this." Lloyd concluded. "Let's just play our parts long enough fer me to ferret out the weird energy spurts I've been sensing from The Source Room and Kara can work out all the best escape routes for the citizens in case things get woolly."

"Right," Dick and Kara replied almost simultaneously, the two soldiers quick to retain their relative maturity. Giving a sure nod to his compatriots in response, The Black Dog then turned towards the door separating the three of them from the throngs of excited children and bored parents that were waiting for them. The wall of noise that assaulted them upon their entrance was more than a bit jarring, the combined screaming of nearly 150 kids proving to almost be too much for Kara despite all of her past training she had devoted to willingly desensitizing her senses. Still, it didn't take long for them to recover and, soon enough, they were ready to go to work.

* * *

It had been only ninety minutes since their noise-filled appearance and, despite how impossible it may have seemed, Kara could have sworn that her jaw muscles were getting sore from having to force herself through so many toothy smiles.

"_Just how many pictures have been taken of us today, anyway?" _she asked her two equally busy companions through their shared telepathic link, her identity kept safe with the aid of a glamour previously cast by The Black Dog.

"_That was Number 129_," Nightwing replied rather sourly, the vigilante having grown long tired of hearing the jingling and jangling of the curios hanging around his ears. _"At least if we're only counting the paid ones."_

"_Take heart, luv," _Lloyd assured Kara while his physical voice asked the little girl on his lap about the specifics behind the Hannah Montana dolls she wanted to get from him for Christmas. _"Judgin' from what I'm getting from the eldritch hearth, it looks like we've still got a couple hours before whatever's underneath the food court is present enough in this dimension to have any impact."_

"_Are you sure we can't just go and close it up right now?" _Nightwing asked, his many years of training serving him well as his neck muscles managed not to snap from the force of being yanked downward by a particularly bothersome child who apparently wanted to check out some of his foam branches.

"_Pandimensional physics don't work that way, Grayson," _Lloyd replied while merrily bouncing the little blonde-haired girl off of his right knee in order to accept the hug of a slightly older boy with a distinct trail of snot running down his nostrils. _"If they can't touch us from where they are then we can't touch them from where we are either."_

"_Well, I guess that it certainly could be worse," _Kara confessed while biting back a wave of irritation spawned by another acne-ridden teenager blatantly trying to get a peek down her top. _"God, guys. This has got to be the most embarrassing thing that all of us have ever done for the holidays!_"

"_It definitely tops my list," _The Black Dog agreed while doing his best to avoid rolling his eyes while hearing yet another round of Christmas wishes from another Naruto-obsessed, 7-year-old boy. _"Bloody 'ell, these moppets 'r makin' me feel old. I've never even 'eard of half the stuff they're blabbin' about!"_

"_Oh, I can come up with a more embarrassing Christmas memory than this_," Nightwing fired back as he carefully stooped down in order to take a picture with a squad of adorable brothers and sisters. _"Like the time I was 12 and ended up getting drunk on the punch served at the Wayne Foundation Christmas charity auction_."

"_You got drunk at a Christmas party when you were 12?" _Kara asked while giving a wicked stare to another smattering of horny teens who seemed to be more than happy to just leer at her for hours on end.

"_I'm kind of surprised that either Alfred or the boss would keep their eyes off ya long enough fer that to happen_," Lloyd added, a somewhat dark part of him giving in to the desire to telepathically prompt the nearby roaming teens to run away screaming from the otherwise peaceful scene.

"_Well, to be fair, it wasn't their idea to serve alcohol at the party," _Grayson elaborated. _"Turns out that Oliver Queen came too and just happened to bring along his new ward for his very first social function. Apparently the little punk didn't take to it too well and he ended up raiding the basement liquor cabinet and spiking half the punchbowls in the place."_

Kara ended up having to fight back the urge to laugh out loud while Lloyd was able to hide his own mirth from beneath his long, white beard. _"Any idea just what he tainted Alfred's precious punch with?"_

"_I think it was a few bottles of '72 Montrechet if I remember correctly,_" Nightwing replied while a young mother cooed at how cute his costume was while the man beside her, most likely her husband, did very little to stifle his laughter.

"_Am I the only one that thinks it's pretty sad that Roy had better taste in alcohol back when he was 12 then when he was 29?" _Kara asked rather shrewdly, the question prompting the two gentlemen to grin.

"_Hard to believe Harper hasn't told me that story before," _Lloyd said while taking a somewhat unconscious effort to take a brief gander at his lover's legs. _"And I'm guessing that there's a bit more to this story than meets the eye?"_

"_Welllll," _Nightwing replied with a swallow of his throat. _"I'd feel a little put off referring to me getting naked and jumping into the courtyard fountain as a __**bit**__."_

The little snort that broke free from Kara's nose didn't exactly do a great deal to make her look more appealing to the surrounding kids, the gesture leaving a gaggle of nearby parents asking just what kind of psychos the mall had hired for their public holiday festivities. Lloyd, on the other hand, was able to somehow transform his laughter into a series of "HO HO HO" chants that he hoped wouldn't sound too inappropriate in the ears and eyes of his many onlookers.

"_You, heh heh, you mean the one with the naked cherubs in the middle all spitting water?" _asked Kara.

"_Let's just say I wasn't in the frame of mind to compare and contrast_," Nightwing concluded with a debonair smile that his colleagues couldn't possibly have seen.

"_Yeah, that's a great deal more embarrassing than all of this_," The Black Dog admitted as he finished up another paid picture before allowing a somewhat hefty little lady to stumble onto his left knee.

"_Ah, it's just another day at the office_," Nightwing surmised as he and the rest of some of his newfound family continued to count the minutes. Of course, as potentially painful as all of it could have been, they each found it quite comforting that they didn't have to go through it alone.

* * *

Misfits Confidential

You know, I'm really hoping I just didn't go and destroy all the credibility I've been trying to build up for Nightwing over the course of the last year or so. On the other hand, I figure we've all got to laugh at ourselves and, hey, what better way to do so than to dress up somebody in a giant Christmas tree? I also feel a little bad about putting Kara in a mini-skirt but, hey, at least I'm not having her wear it 24/7 like some other writers or certain comic book corporations. All that being said, I hope you enjoyed the chapter (Lord knows I did because it basically just jumped off my mind and onto the keypad) and hope you enjoy the next update later in the day! Speaking of which. . .

* * *

Chapter Eight Preview

Here's a question for the holiday audience! Which of our intrepid heroes would be stupid enough to travel to one of the biggest shopping complexes on Christmas Eve just before close with the intention of actually buying an important gift? Well, if you don't know the answer by now then you just haven't been reading this series that closely. Of course, that shouldn't stop you from finding out for yourself in the next installment of _The Twelve Days of Misfits_: The Truest Christmas Tradition. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	8. The Truest Christmas Tradition

Chapter Eight

The Truest Christmas Tradition

_Gotham City - 5:50 P.M._

Cecilia King-Jones had been through a great many things in her relatively short life. This statement had grown particularly true during the 19 months she has worked as one of the so-called Misfits, Bruce Wayne's team of supposedly elite soldiers who had put it upon themselves to fight the battles that no other team of heroes could or should. She had bore witness to the birth of a planet, observed the downfall of another, and played a significant role within perhaps the greatest battle the planet Earth had ever known. Perhaps more importantly, she had managed to pull herself through all of the chaos within these events and did so with her own brand of distinct professionalism and more than a hint of good humor.

But this, _this_, was just impossible.

The struggle to find a parking space had only been the beginning of it all, the many minutes searching for an open parking spot with the aid of her forest-green Chevrolet Cavalier proving to be quite the frantic experience indeed. Then, while she was still busy trying to wrap her mind around just how such a large parking lot could possibly be so devoid of necessary room, she was assaulted the moment she had entered the large shopping complex with 10 straight minutes of Perry Como music, a crime that she felt that no one, particularly herself, should be forced to suffer through. Then, as she bobbed, weaved, and leapt to avoid the enormous mob swarming around her, the woman known by some as Arrowette pondered over why whoever controlled the overhead intercom system had chosen to play exceptionally depressing James Taylor tunes instead of doing something more rational such as leave the comm. line open for paramedics since Lord knows that somebody was going to get hurt in all of this.

Hell, she was still amazed that she was still alive after everything she had just been through.

"It's like we're dealing with a whole bunch of rabid termites!" Cecilia all but screeched as she continued to push her weary body closer to her long intended destination. "I almost fell off the damn escalator when that woman bulled right past me!"

"Oh, I grabbed your shirt before you even hit the rail," Stephanie replied rather sourly, her attention mostly still fixated on rubbing her irritated eyes. "I can't believe that bitch with all the makeup tried to mace me when we were cutting through Dillard's!"

The fair-haired archer rolled her eyes as she and Stephanie moved out of the doorway to the toy store and away from the oncoming traffic. "Steph, that was a perfume saleswoman," she clarified rather flatly. "Blinding you with what they're selling in order to convince you to buy it is pretty much what they do."

"No shit?" asked Stephanie, her lack of experience with mall shopping leaving her with a bit of blissful ignorance. "Doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me."

"Look, we don't have time for this!" Cecilia said with a grunt as she started stalking forward once again, the young woman that _Sports Illustrated _had once dubbed "the greatest archer of her generation" simply unwilling to take any more time to explain things further. "This store is closing in ten minutes and we need to find a sales clerk."

"Good luck with that one," Stephanie said while going through another round of quick eye blinking. "Exactly why again didn't you just get some gifts for Jai when you were buying your present for Iris?"

"I don't need a peanut gallery on this trip, Steph!" Cecilia hissed back without bothering to turn around. "I need somebody to help me look!"

"You know, you could just cut him a check," Steph said rather matter-of-factly, the young Green Lantern once again showing her relative indifference towards her friend's crisis. "I mean, what's the use of going through all this physical and psychological training if you don't mooch off the richest man in Gotham as you do it?"

"Thanks for the idea," Cecilia disagreeably offered, "but I don't really feel like doing anything else that might make Bruce Wayne more of my sugar daddy than he already is!"

"Heh, sugar daddy," Stephanie said with a snort as her curiosity began to take her over. "Ooh! Look at this!"

Arrowette turned around, perhaps her mounting desperation momentarily blinding her mind from the sheer impossibility that Stephanie Brown could possibly come up with anything resembling a good idea while in a place such as this. Sure enough, Cecilia was soon privy to the sight of one of the world's most powerful warriors wearing an enormous yellow fire fighter's helmet on top of her head. And, if that wasn't ridiculous enough, the helmet also came equipped with comically overlarge goggles, a small collection of buttons and levers strapped to its sides, and a giant red light on the top that made Robin look like a miner who had gotten lost on her way to the mental hospital.

"Steph, could you at least pretend to act your age for once!!" Cecilia shouted back, her angry command losing quite a bit of its forcefulness thanks to all the noise going on around them. "I am not giving that to a three-year-old!"

"But look at all the buttons," Stephanie almost cooed back as her fingers rushed towards the top of the helmet. She managed to press a good number of those previously mentioned keys and one of them apparently prompted the light on top of her head to begin flashing.

"What am I doing?" Steph asked Arrowette excitedly, her blatantly unnecessary eye protection keeping her from seeing what she was doing.

"You're flashing," Arrowette said coldly while summoning the most potent Batglare she could muster. Unfortunately, her borrowed glowering had just as much effect on the little blonde whirlwind in front of her as it did when the glare's originator had steered it towards the fourth person to don the mantle of Robin. In fact, the impact was blunted even less by Stephanie's move to read the box that had previously been standing next to her newly acquired toy.

"Oh, cool! IT'S VOICE ACTIVATED!"

"Oh, Lord," Cissie said as she wrapped her right hand over her eyes.

"FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!! FIRE!! FIRRRRE!!"

Arrowette's move to calm herself down came to a quick end as she found herself being pelted with small but definitely noticeable jets of lukewarm water. Looking up in surprise after the first impact, she managed to get a good look at Stephanie's smiling face before the hoses mounted to her friend's helmet managed to fire a blast right into her right eye. The accidentally accurate shot succeeded in disorienting her even further, the space of time she needed to recover allowing for her hair and neck to become wet as well.

As one could possibly imagine, the sound of Stephanie's laughter in the aftermath of it all sounded a great deal more disgusting to Arrowette's ears than any death threat or promise of eventual destruction she had ever heard or received.

"I wonder what else this thing does?" Stephanie asked.

"LET'S SEE IT PROTECT YOUR SKULL!!"

The blonde-haired Gothamite let out a loud yelp as Cecilia banged her right fist down onto the top of her head, the impact of skin and bone on cheap plastic causing her skull to rattle and the helmet to sink down at a rather uncomfortable angle. Quick to pry herself from the now unwanted impediment, the troublesome 20-year-old took a moment to shake her head back and forth in order to clear the cobwebs. Though this narrow window of time gave her friend a bit of a head start as she stomped away, it only took a fraction of her magically enhanced speed and endurance to catch up while simultaneously getting her mind back on its normal frame of functionality. As she once again moved to Arrowette's side, she made a silent promise to do what she could to give her a good friend a hand.

Unless she happened upon another cool toy that caught her fancy.

"How come they never play any good music in places like these?" Robin asked as she watched her friend quickly pore over what little there was left to be found.

"What are you talking about?" asked Cecilia without even bothering to turn around or stop her searching.

"I'm talking about all this boring Christmas music. The Beach Boys and Perry Como and Mariah Carey. It's nothing but a bunch of trite, over manufactured pop drivel! I mean, you'd think that a place so interested in presenting an appealing image would put a little more effort behind their music selection."

"Huh," Arrowette replied, her thoughts still far more focused on things like which Bernstein Bear books that the Wests already owned and whether or not a See 'n Say was an appropriate gift for a three-year-old.

"Y'think that maybe it's nothing but just another customer manipulation tactic?" Stephanie offered to her unresponsive audience, the possibility of unearthing another of life's many conspiracy theories already beginning to inspire her thoughts. "Maybe it's just their way of further prompting impulsive purchases from their customers! Yeah! I mean, think about it! You create an unappetizing environment and make the shoppers feel uncomfortable about being there and it's not like they can just leave or they won't be able to finish the service that our holiday economic ethics prompt us to perform! So, just so they can get away, they'll make an easy purchase that the store directs them to without thinking about whether or not it's a good value! Hot shit, I'm a genius!"

"No, you're still an idiot," Cecilia fired back, her general attitude towards the situation at hand taking precedent over any desire to form an intelligent reply. "And I'm an even bigger idiot for thinking I was going to find a good present in this empty hellhole!"

Unfortunately, Stephanie's attention was once again not on her friend's obvious frustrations. Instead, it had become focused upon a familiar looking red-and-white bag.

"Build-a-Bear."

"What are you talking about?" Cecilia asked in abject aggravation. "That store closed for everything except pickups before we even got here!"

"The bag!" Stephanie said as she made her way to the object in question. "Didn't Jai tear up his old bear?"

"Well, yeah," Cecilia replied while Stephanie took an unreserved look down to take a gander at the contents of the bag. "But that's somebody else's! We can't just go and take it!"

Stephanie's only retort was dipping her right hand into the large bag and emerging with a single bear. She somehow managed to keep a straight face as she held the stuffed object in front of the archer's face, the young Green Lantern giving her friend more than enough time for Cecilia's heart to melt at the sight of the little, brown stuffed bear wrapped comfortably within a very familiar red, white, and yellow costume.

When Cecilia finally regained the strength to speak, she could only manage a squeak.

"It's The Fastest Bear Alive," she said in wonderment, the sight of the Flash bear overcoming her holiday pessimism quicker than any Christmas special possibly could. "Oh my God, it's so perfect," she mumbled with an exceptionally high squeal.

"Excuse me! Can I help you?"

The two veteran warriors both swerved around in surprise in order to see the antsy, middle-aged man staring back at them. Sporting tapered brown hair, a black and blue Cliff Huxtable sweater, and a pair of wrinkled tan slacks, he looked quite a bit like a sizeable percentage of the other harassed shoppers around bustling about the busy shopping complex. More importantly, he didn't seem very pleased with the fact that two complete strangers had been quite obviously rooting through his recent purchases.

"Oh, I am so sorry, sir," Cecilia said peacefully as Stephanie hastily stuffed the bear back into its former spot in the bag. "It's just that. . . it's just that this store is shutting down in five minutes and I'm shopping for the three-year-old son of a very good friend of mine and that bear would be just the thing for him to have a perfect Christmas."

"We may actually be down to less than that judging from the antsy look on the face of the manager at the front," Stephanie interrupted.

As one can imagine, the not so helpful possibility did little to make Cecilia feel better, the words prompting her to shoot a rather hostile glare at her exponentially more powerful counterpart. The stranger, on the other hand, looked at the apologetic frown on Stephanie's face and the desperation in Cecilia's eyes and felt something come over him.

"You, uh, you need this really badly, don't you?" he said softly, his eyes taking on a hint of a holiday twinkle. "Well, seeing as it's Christmas. . ."

A hopeful glint appeared in Cecilia's eyes, the prospect of such a serendipitous display of good fortune causing a warm feeling to grow within her gut. "Oh, bless you, sir," she said gratefully. "God bless you, sir."

"Two-hundred bucks."

Cecilia was absolutely without words. Stephanie, on the other hand, had plenty of words but refused to use them, the former Spoiler preferring to roll her eyes instead.

"What?" asked Arrowette in a state of utter disbelief.

"Take it or leave it," the man said sternly in reply.

"But. . . but. . ." Cecilia sputtered as she slowly regained her rage. "That thing couldn't have cost you any more than forty dollars!!"

The opportunistic fellow only shrugged his shoulders. An unconscious widening of Cissie's eyes just a few seconds later prompted him to add, "I'm just trying to do you a favor here."

"THIS ISN'T A FAVOR!! THIS IS A. . ."

_FRA-KA-KOOM!!_

The loud explosion that rose from nearly 60 feet away rocked the surrounding windows and caused some of the lesser stocked shelves to either wobble or tumble over altogether. Once carefully crafted toy displays that had already been torn to shreds in the previous holiday chaos became even more unseemly as the aftershocks and the rushing of the mall's inhabitants placed the busy store in an even more advanced state of disarray.

Muffling several unladylike words, Stephanie subtly performed an energy scan with her Oa power ring while scanning the surrounding area with her eyes to see if anyone was in any imminent danger. Already having a good idea at just who was behind the ruckus, the capable fighter let out an audacious grin as she eagerly prepared herself for what she had felt she had been tailor-made to do.

"Come on, Cissers," Robin said confidently. "We've gotta beat feet!"

"NO! WAIT! Come back!" Cecilia shouted in response, her attentions fully focused on the pretentious asshole who was already running to safety. "My perfect Christmas!"

"No, this is going to make it a perfect Christmas!" Stephanie countered excitedly. "Let's go kick some ass."

She moved as quickly as her human legs could take her, her eyes already searching for a safe place to unleash the eldritch energy stored within one of the world's most powerful weapons. However, it only took her a few seconds to realize that she couldn't hear the sound of Cecilia's boots clomping behind her. Turning around quickly, Stephanie turned to see her friend still rooted to her spot, her friend's denied dream apparently enough to keep her still. Realizing that she had to think fast, she searched her ever-active mind to come up with a feasible solution to the present mess.

And, God help us everyone, she soon found it.

* * *

Misfits Confidential

It's really amazing how doing something you enjoy doing in times of troubles can do so much for your spirits. I found out a couple of hours ago that my father just took a trip to the hospital due to some pancreas problems and my mother's a little worried that there might be some heart-related complications. That being said, it doesn't appear to be too serious by the looks of it but, still, it always feels weird and downright depressing to hear something like that happening to someone you love. So, instead of thinking too much about something I really can't do anything about, I just decided to sit down and do the writing I was planning to do in the first place and, before you know it, three hours have passed by and 2,500 words had been written down.

To make a long story short, I guess it's just another reminder about how we all have to find something we can take comfort in when you're feeling down, whether that thing may be creating something you enjoy or kicking somebody's teeth in. Of course, I only recommend the latter method for fictional characters only. Trying something like that in the real world tends to lead to trouble with various public institutions.

* * *

Chapter Nine Preview

Well, it wouldn't be an arc of The Misfits without a fight and, come tomorrow, that's exactly what you're going to get. Who are the mysterious adversaries attacking Gotham and how can two troublesome blondes, The North Pole's favorite married couple, and Ferny the Magic Christmas Tree possibly overcome the odds? Well, maybe they can with the help of a couple of uninvited guests. Tune in tomorrow to watch the mayhem unfold in the next installment of _The Twelve Days of Misfits_: O, Come All Ye Faithless. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	9. O, Come All Ye Faithless

Chapter Nine

O, Come All Ye Faithless

_Gotham Galleria – 6:01 P.M._

The tri-horned beast cast its eyes over just a small portion of what it would soon claim, the black blood of the centuries old demon boiling with anticipation and the thrill that its many years of planning and preparing would soon bear its long-expected fruit. Throwing back its midnight-black mane, the tough strands of hair flying back below its hips, the demon spit hellfire from its gaping maw, the joy that came from displaying its unholy power barely blunted by the fact that there were no innocent souls for him to claim with his fury. Casting a contemptuous glare at the three ludicrous-looking creatures that were attempting to put a stop to its destiny, the demon's jagged incisors gleamed as it watched its dozens of minions descend upon them, his dark servants seemingly quite eager to sink their own fangs and claws into the flesh of these foolish humans.

"How foolish these souls be," the beast grumbled in a long-forgotten prototype of classic Aramaic, the demon neither knowing nor caring that its audience could not understand a word it was saying. "For too long I have been forced to cater and cower to the foolish declarations of history. My kind were forced under the earth and into the unwanted pockets of reality, our presence deemed unwanted and unnecessary by those who won our wars with trickery and deceit. We will no longer allow ourselves to be subjugated! We will make up for centuries of injustice by devouring your bodies and feasting upon your. . . ARGH!!"

"Nobody knows what you're saying!" Kara Zor-el shouted, the half-Kryptonian quite eager to put the indecipherable grumblings to rest by slamming the demon to the ground with a standing urinage suplex. Moving so quickly that the beast's mind had yet to comprehend that she was there, the young warrior quickly moved to twist her body upward until she had locked her stout legs around the upper half of the creature's torso. "It's bad enough that I've got to be wearing this and that I've got to get demon blood all over it as I do but I don't need to be doing it while listening to threats that I can't even understand," she grumbled while laying into the beast with rights and lefts that soon made the demon's face a messy mishmash of flesh, bone, and blood. However, before she could finish the job with a quick snapping of the fiend's neck, a half-dozen of the creature's servants apparently volunteered to get beat down in their master's stead since they rushed to tackle her to the ground.

"A minor inconvenience," the demon concluded, his appearance looking decidedly less menacing than it had just a few seconds ago. "You will all soon witness the extent of my power! As this hellish night falls, the black moon shall heed the call of Xanta Claus!!"

"Santa Claus?!" Nightwing shouted in disbelief, the words the vigilante thought he had heard almost causing him to fall flat on his face just after connecting with a double-footed spring kick that cracked a minion's jaw. "Black Dog, I swore I heard that big guy say Santa Claus!"

"How the bugger can you understand any o' that!" Lloyd Thomas shouted back, the aforementioned Black Dog once again holding sway over his portion of the battlefield with a combination of magic and Shotokan strikes that he used to incapacitate or eliminate one imp after the other. "Sounds like just a bunch of grunts, bells, and whistles to me."

"Do you dare mock my power, you fetid, little miscreants?! Your display of impudence will only make the taste of your blood sweeter to my famished senses! Your broken bodies shall kneel at my feet while your cracked, dying lips will utter the name of Xanta Claus as your souls are swept into the forewinds!"

"THERE! He said it again!" Nightwing shouted, the former acrobat wise to keep a safe distance from the whirlwinds of destruction that Kara and Lloyd had become while also making certain to stay between them in order to stay relatively safe. "I _know _you heard it that time!"

"Sounded more like an X than a S to me," Lloyd concluded as he accidentally rammed his left fist through the single ocular membrane of some bizarre, green gargoyle-like creature that had tried to crush him from above. Opting not to take the time or energy to physically slide the repulsive thing off of his forearm, the Brit merely employed his telekinesis to turn his newest victim into a heavy, round projectile that toppled over nearly a dozen more of the invading monsters.

"You mean _Xanta Claus_?" Dick Grayson asked in disbelief. "Like that wrestler back in the WWF? What the hell kind of a name is that?"

"A bad one," Kara answered bluntly as she finally rid herself of the hellspawn that had momentarily kept her from killing the orchestrator of this particular hullabaloo. Suddenly finding herself without a dance partner, she took a little time to give the older of her two compatriots a once over. "Still couldn't get your headgear off, huh?"

Nightwing let out a sigh as he used his right escrima stick to stave off a puce-colored set of fangs while ramming the short staff in his left hand straight into the nose of the beast that had attacked him. "At least I got rid of all the ornaments," he replied while the green foam helmet on top of his head, the lone surviving piece of Ferny the Magical Christmas Tree, wobbling as he bounced in time to the beat of the battle.

"All the jingles and jangles were beginning to hurt me ears," Lloyd confessed as he and his two comrades worked to corral the invading demons in an attempt to further protect the few remaining bystanders still in their opponents' range. "An' I've been meanin' to ask but, Kara, luv, are those my boxer shorts you're wearing underneath that skirt?"

"Yeah. It's really more of a precautionary measure than a wardrobe choice though," Kara replied, the young woman not even bothering to turn around as she used her heat vision to melt the multicolored flesh of the beast in front of her before turning to roast two more that had been rushing at her from her left.

"Seen enough of your knickers on display in the tabs during your Supergirl days, have we?" Lloyd asked with a whimsical smile.

The Last Daughter of Krypton turned to her lover and rolled her eyes, her pupils still steaming from the force of their previous exertions. "Enough for several lifetimes," she said rather flatly while swerving in front of a lesser demon that had come dangerous close to sinking its claws into Nightwing's abdomen. "I hope you don't mind."

"Oh, I don't mind, luv," Lloyd said with a wide and flirtatious smile. "Don't mind one bit."

"If it pleases the food court," Nightwing said after delivering a picture-perfect Wushu-style roundhouse kick, "The Former Proverbial Whipping Boy would like to declare that The Alpha Male and The Alpha Female should cease their disgusting flirting until _after _the half-hearted demonic invasion has been stopped."

"Seconded," Kara said quickly but with a giggle as she rocketed off to take on the so-called Xanta Claus.

"Thirded," Lloyd added while crashing Santa's former chair against the center head of a five-faced Durslar beast. "An' getting back to the previous topic of conversation," he went on, "as silly as the whole Xanta Claus thing sounds, a lot of holiday traditions do share some distinct ties with demonic activity."

"I shudder to ask," Nightwing rejoined, his hands free for a moment thanks to one of The Black Dog's ever-handy telekinetic shockwaves.

"Well, according to Mao," Lloyd went on as he finally got around to pulling his silver saber free of its scabbard. "The whole Santa Claus thing started with a small nest of creeper demons that had set up shop in Myra 'bout 1,700 years ago. Their m.o. was to crawl through the holes in the tops of the humans' houses in order to perform soul-removing rituals on the children of the village."

"You're shittin' me!" Nightwing said as he and his friend began to work in a familiar tandem, the gleaming lashes of Lloyd's blade and the fast twirling and striking of Grayson's Filipino-made weaponry giving their other partner more than enough time to safely take on the army's leader one-on-one.

"I shit you not," Lloyd simply replied. "Accordin' to the records over in Devon, that Nicholas bloke used some kind of archaic weather magic to create a winter wind that drove the critters away!"

"Pretty clever," Nightwing confessed as he struck down a demon that Lloyd had sent stumbling his way.

"Of course, the records also say that the only reason he did it was so he could rob the town blind. After all, he's known as the patron saint of thieves in some centers of Catholicism."

"_Still makes more sense than somebody moving up to The North Pole with a bunch of elves or delivering toys to a billion houses in 24 hours," _Kara surmised while crashing her small but powerful fist into Xanta Claus's already broken jaw.

"_Or any explanation as to why Santa seems to like rich kids a lot more than poor kids," _Nightwing added through the group's shared telepathic link. _"You almost done over there, blondie?"_

"_Just finishing up_," Kara replied, her keen warrior's mind already working through a myriad of angles and possibilities. _"I just need to find a way to get rid of this guy without doing too much property. . . WHAT THE HELL!!"_

Lloyd swerved around just in time to catch the bizarre sight of an enormous green sleigh crashing into the large demon's back, the speed of the unusual craft working with the weight of the vehicle to snap the beast's spine and leave it decidedly among the unliving. He then forced himself to stifle a groan as the giant eldritch sled plowed through the formerly lovely little display of Santa's workshop that several kindly troupes of Girl Scouts had reportedly spent days making in preparation of jolly old Saint Nick's arrival in Gotham. Taking a moment to ponder over whether or not the Guardians of The Galaxy would convict him of treason should he go ahead and rightfully strangle their so-called chosen one, The Black Dog then tried his best to ignore the orchestrator of all the unnecessary destruction.

"MERRY CHIRSTMAS TO ALL AND THIS GOATFUCKER'S DEAD!"

And, as usual, failed miserably.

"_Steph's here_," Kara dully reported. _"And she brought Cissie with her_."

One of the few, surviving members of Krypton's destruction did her best to block out the telepathic profanity streaming from Dick and Lloyd's shared consciousness as she raced over to inspect the frailer of the two recent arrivals. Having been in the carriage of the sleigh that had ended the life of the leader of this phenomenally flawed uprising from hell, Cecilia King-Jones still looked a little leery as she stumbled around the broken remains of the set where she had been forced to stand and smile for several very long hours. Worrying for her friend's safety, she threw her body into a tight, circular flight that quickly rid the surroundings of any demons that could have posed a problem before moving to inspect her all-too-human friend.

"I don't wanna play with Stephanie anymore," Kara heard Arrowette hazily say as she all but fell into her arms. A quick scan of X-ray vision gave the half-Kryptonian enough evidence to believe that the archer had suffered a mild concussion and more than enough proof that this wasn't a safe place for Cecilia to be. Using her left hand to activate her comm. link with The Batcave while taking to the sky with the rest of her body, she didn't have to wait long before hearing the familiar buzz of a successful link.

"Flash, we need you here when. . ."

A resounding _whoosh _flooded the food court as nearly two dozen demons were swept aside by a blur of red and gold. As one could imagine, The Flash's initial strike gave the team even more of an advantage then they already had. A half-second later, Arrowette had been taken from Kara's arms and, a second after that, the alien was ready and waiting as Wally West moved to stand at her left side.

"_We got a plan here, boss?" _asked the crimson-haired speedster as he and Kara moved back-to-back to take on what remained of the invasion force.

"_I'll go down and seal the rift now that the coast is clear," _Lloyd quickly fired back. _"Steph can cover my back while Dick and Kara handle what's left up here. You kin lend 'em a hand, West, but just remember to keep your peepers locked on any humanfolk that might SEVEN O'CLOCK, FLASH!"_

Wally quickly yanked his neck to the left to catch the sight of a small child being ensnared by a winged beast whose ribcage was easy to see in the harsh indoor lighting. The dark-skinned boy let out a horrified screech as the demon brought its jaws closer to his throat, the glow in the beast's red eyes and the drool spilling from the monster's lips making its intentions as clear as day. Working far faster than nearly anyone else on the planet could even think, The Fastest Man Alive poured on the speed to make the save only to receive a face full of black blood when he was a mere five feet away from getting into striking distance. Looking on as the crying child was pulled free from the fiend's dying grip, he kept one eye on the katana that had been plunged through the demon's cranium and another on the familiar face of the unexpected rescuer.

"Not sure if this puts me on the nice list or the naughty list," Rose Wilson said with a wicked grin while shooing off the petrified boy to safety. Moving quickly to pluck her blood soaked weapon from the body of her victim, the young lady paid Wally barely a whit of attention as she looked for other things she could kill.

"Ravager?!" Wally asked in shock as he moved to follow her. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"_Rose is here?" _Dick parroted back through the telepathic link. _"Why the hell is that?"_

"I'm guessing that it's not the same reason that you're here, my speedy little sex muffin," Ravager told The Flash with a well-practiced smile. "Jeez, I would have brought my new shotgun if I had known that I'd get to beat the crap out of some demons while doing some late Christmas shopping with my poppa."

The Flash's eyes widened significantly, his surprise not having anything to do with the fact that a five-armed, ogre-like beast was currently trying to gouge his eyes out.

"_What's that about Slade_?" Nightwing blared back through the team's telepathic link, the distance between him, Rose, and Wally making it impossible for him to hear the conversation. _"Why is Rose here?"_

As ready as he was for an answer to his questions, The Flash's response was easily rendered mute by the familiar sounds of an even more familiar mini-gun whose many bullets were quick to tear into the flesh of the hellspawn that had clustered on Nightwing's momentary blind side. There was an amazingly icky spot of dread in the former Robin's heart as he turned around to see his decidedly unexpected companion. To make matters worse, the lack of a mask on the old man's face made the disdain that Slade Wilson offered to him that much easier to see.

"You know what's really sad about this, Grayson?" Deathstroke asked as he took in the green foam still on top of his former rival's head. "I've actually seen you looking even stupider than this."

Nightwing quickly turned his eyes and thoughts back to what little remained of the demons, the former leader of The Teen Titans eager to shift his thoughts away to anything else available.

* * *

The rest of the battle was academic. The Black Dog had little trouble preparing the proper incantation he would need to seal the pandimensional rift and thus barely needed the extensive protection that Robin had been there to provide. Moreover, the addition of Deathstroke, The Flash, and Ravager was more than enough to not only eliminate the remaining beasts but also eliminate any possibility of civilian casualties, the skill and teamwork displayed by the five aboveground combatants on a level that any team of so-called superheroes would have a difficult time matching.

Of course, after that was all said and done and the proper authorities had arrived to clean up the mess, that didn't mean the victors weren't left with another glaring problem.

"You have _so _got to come have Christmas Eve dinner with us," Robin proclaimed, the gleam in her pale blue eyes radiating an enthusiasm that was proving very difficult for Rose Wilson to resist. "I mean, we've got enough food for twenty people as it is."

"Absolutely not," Slade said with authority. "We already have other plans."

"All we're doing is eating alone in that drafty old condo!" Rose whined back, her desire for human company overriding her frequent efforts to look professional in the eyes of her father. "Dad, I've never been to Wayne Manor and I've always wanted to go!"

"Yeah, well we've both been there," Nightwing replied grouchily, the rigid posture displayed by the former protégé of The Caped Crusader looking startlingly similar to Slade's. "It's big, it's frequently destroyed, and the basement smells distinctly of guano."

Deathstroke nodded in agreement, the revulsion he could have possibly felt from so readily agreeing with one Richard Grayson momentarily overcome by the horrors of what was suddenly placed on the horizon.

"An' here I thought that Christmas was the time that we reach out to those who could easily slip from our grips in darker times," Lloyd said with a grin while wrapping his left arm around an equally amused Kara.

Nightwing turned to give an angry glare to his chosen heir, the older crime fighter not at all happy with the decided lack of support. "I am not spending my Christmas with Deathstroke the Terminator!! The guy has tried to kill me almost a dozen times!"

"Oh, my dad hasn't tried to kill you for years now," Rose said in an annoyed manner before turning her one, remaining blue eye towards her primary target. "Dad, I don't want to spend another Christmas alone. Please?"

It was hard to believe that a hardened killer like Slade Wilson could possibly be swayed by puppy-dog eyes, particularly if there was only one widened eye to be seen. However, the Vietnam War veteran felt himself beginning to soften under his daughter's pleas, the reaction only bolstered by the horrified look in Nightwing's eyes.

"SON OF A BITCH!!"

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Longest chapter so far. That's quite a habit for me as my stories go, isn't it?

First of all, I'd like to apologize for not responding to everybody's reviews as I am prone to do on The Misfits proper. What with all the time working and writing this, I'm barely having any time for the spare stuff until Christmas rolls around. Rest assured, though, I will respond to all your reviews over the Christmas weekend, no matter how many I just happen to receive over the next few days (rubs his hands and laughs evilly at his clever and oh-so-subtle plan to needle for reviews). After all, a guy as impulsive as me needs something good to do with their time.

Speaking of which, how about a next chapter preview?

* * *

Chapter Ten Preview

It's time to wrap up Christmas Eve dinner at Wayne Manor and Wally West still has one last present to put under the tree. Can The Flash work up the courage to do what he has pledged to do or will he be forced to weather the jeers and insults of his peers for the months to come? Tune in tomorrow for some answers and the heaving bowl of fluff that serves as the next installment of _The Twelve Days of Misfits_: For The Man who has Everything and Nothing. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	10. For The Man who has Everything

Chapter Ten

For The Man who has Everything and Nothing

_Wayne Manor – 8:21 P.M._

The enormous, cherry-oak table originally constructed by Gotham's finest woodworkers in 1884 and currently situated in perhaps the most lavish dining hall that can be found throughout all of the state of New York certainly did not appear as pristine and polished as one might imagine in times such as these. As a matter of fact, this genuine piece of architectural history looked as if it had been recently ravaged by exceedingly hungry vandals. Everything from untidy plates to unkempt dinner platters to spoiled napkins to half-full glasses of water, milk, coffee, soda, and various forms of alcohol all seemed to be doing their best to muddy up what was once a picturesque scene. However, as tragic as the scene might have appeared to lovers of fine architecture or the glories of high society, it would be difficult for anyone to not see the warmth and contentment that lay within what there was to be beheld.

Of course, as always in situations such as these, there were some exceptions to the rule.

"I cannot believe that you would steal from the very people you just rescued!" Bruce Wayne raged coldly, the master of the enormous house now feeling that it was finally the time to be rightfully belligerent now that the dinner had mostly been completed. "You have a responsibility to the people of Gotham!"

"First of all, I did not _steal _from anybody," countered Stephanie Brown, the young woman looking far more apologetic than she most likely would have been to anybody else. "Some of the mall managers came up to Cissie and Wally after everything had died down and offered gift certificates and stuff for saving everybody's bacon. I just decided to cash my share a little earlier than they expected."

Making certain to choose to sit at the opposite end of the table in anticipation of such an argument, Dick, Kara, and Lloyd occasionally shared a knowing glance while quietly observing the inevitable goings on.

"Kind of amazed he hasn't stomped out of the room yet," Dick softly confessed to his colleagues while using his spoon to scoop up what little remained on his plate.

"I'd give it another thirty seconds or so," Kara estimated with an equally quiet whisper before moving to devour yet another delicious sliver of her second slice of pecan pie. "Oh, and ten bucks says Cecilia starts yelling before Bruce leaves."

"Only a fool'd take that bet," Lloyd said with a grunt while leaning back in his own chair, his small fingers wrapped around his third bottle of Guinness. "By the way, bloody great job on slicin' up the turkey there, Batlady. 'Course, I shoulda guessed the spawn o' Davey Cain would be right handy with a carvin' knife."

The young woman who had once been destined to serve as the perfect bodyguard for Ra's Al-Ghul gave The Black Dog a surprisingly prim smile. "Always try to do well at what you do," Cassandra Cain replied in what she hoped to be a sagely manner. "Then no one can be mad at you for being stupid."

"Sound advice," Dick said approvingly before turning his attentions back to the display of idiocy laid out before them.

"Come on, Cissie!" Steph pleaded in an effort to draw support from the woman sitting across from her. "Back me up here! I did help you get all your Christmas presents!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Were you saying something?" Cecilia replied with a tone that might be politely construed as half-hearted. "I couldn't hear anything because some twit decided to give me a concussion a couple of hours ago."

"You are taking everything those people gave you to the Goodwill the first thing in the morning," Bruce Wayne told his charge.

"Including the fancy electric razor I got for you?"

"_Especially _that," Bruce fired back with a growl before adding, "and I'll make certain to look over the training regiment that Lloyd has assigned for you in the coming month. I'm certain I can find something he happened to miss."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, boss," Lloyd said while toasting his somewhat testy supervisor with his half-empty bottle of beer.

"No problem," Bruce said flatly as he rose out of his seat while Stephanie slumped down in hers. "Merry Christmas to you all," he added with a grumble before making his predictably moody exit and starting his inevitable trip back down to the caverns below.

In response, Kara Zor-el checked her watch. "One hour and 12 minutes," she revealed.

"Bugger," Lloyd said just before taking another sip of his lager. "Almost a half hour longer than last year."

"Pretty impressive," Nightwing agreed as the two raven-haired gentlemen clinked their glasses together. "And it definitely beats the year he stalked out after he and Barbara started arguing about proper holiday eating schedules. I don't think he even made it 15 minutes that year."

"He didn't," Cassandra Cain recalled, her small fingers wrapped around her chin as the former assassin wracked her active mind. "The sweet potatoes tasted funny that year."

"Well, I think the important thing," interrupted another bawdy, increasingly inebriated voice, "is that you guys managed to save Gotham and I somehow managed to go another holiday season without strangling my foster father."

"Here, here!" Lian Harper cheered, the young lady raising up her glass of milk in order to match the gesture of her much noisier father. The young girl's giggling quickly joined the chuckles and chortles that could already be heard in the dining hall as Roy gave her a kindly smile before bending down and giving his daughter a very messy kiss on her forehead.

"All right, then I'm guessin' it's toast time!" Lloyd exclaimed as he rose to his feet as well, his movement soon copied by many others at the table. "And, given that the boss is gone and now I'm in charge. . . OI! SHUT YA GOBS!!," he added amidst a chorus of boos and challenges for The Black Dog's imaginary throne, "I would like to give thanks to all of you who have taken this sorry soul in and made me a part of your own lives. You are my family and, no matter what happens after this day is up, I will be forever grateful for what you have given me."

Lloyd turned to his left as many of those at the table raised their glasses and said their thanks in response to the heartfelt claim. His hazel eyes focused on the first person sitting at the long table who had distinguished him with such a cherished honor. In response, Scandal Savage gave her little brother a kindly smile as she let out just the barest of a sniffle that was lost to everyone except the two of them.

"Well, since I'm already up," Dick Grayson threw in. "To the man who puts up with us on this day and every other day of the year and still somehow manages to cook up the loveliest Christmas spread that this group of assholes and ne'er-do-wells could ever ask for!"

"TO ALFRED!!" shouted a chorus of voices around the table, the noisy toast prompting a certain distinguished gentlemen to try his best to utter nothing more than a bit of polite laughter.

"And I. . ." Roy broke in, the red-haired sharpshooter always eager to retake center stage. "Would like to give a toast to Wallace Rudolph West. . ."

"Ugh," grumbled The Flash, the suddenly honored young man well aware of what was coming.

"For you see," Arsenal went on, "he is now a man who has somehow managed to chicken out of _yet another _opportunity to give Bruce Wayne his apparent Christmas present." Roy paused as he gave his audience a time to chuckle, laugh, and say what they wanted before continuing on. "And, because of this, we will be able to continue belittling and insulting him until that distant day when he somehow manages to grow a set of balls!"

"HERE, HERE!" Rose Wilson yelled happily while violently crashing her can of Coke against Roy's glass of top-shelf tequila. Other exclamations and cheers were soon to follow along with a great deal of drinking of whatever there was to be found. In the midst of all the activity, Wally employed a bit of his unparalleled speed to shoot as many annoyed glares as he could at the surrounding audience. He spent so much time doing this that one of his few remaining sympathizers finally took pity on him, the woman wrapping her arms around The Flash's shoulders.

"Oh, come on, husband o' mine," Linda Park-West finally relented, the young mother finally realizing that she was going to have to speed this along. "I'll come down with you and deal with the big, mean, Goddamned Batman."

Several half-sympathetic _awww's _came from the table as Linda hefted her brooding husband from his seat and walked with him to The Batcave. Wally let out a tired breath, the irritation that grew in his gut thanks to the decided lack of support from the others at the table appeased somewhat slightly by the fact that he was about to do a good deed.

"Miss West, I do hope that you've properly prepared your husband. I've learned from experience that speedsters tend to piss their pants pretty quick!"

The Flash was quick to clamp his eyes shut upon hearing Slade Wilson's parting shot and the gales of laughter that followed from many of the others around the table.

"I'm going to kill them all," he told the love of his life with a whisper.

"I know, sweetie," Linda assured her husband. "But you can't go to jail for multiple homicides until we take care of this first."

* * *

The throbbing in his temples had finally died down, the impromptu 15-minute session of chi meditation working wonders for Bruce Wayne's aching senses. He knew that Alfred would most likely have his head for departing on such a sour note but, looking back on the whole thing, The Batman had to admit that things certainly could have gone a great deal worse. A small, guilty part of him was quick to remind the aggrieved detective that he still needed to thank Dick, Kara, and Lloyd for all their hard work over the past several days but he quickly laid that rebellious thought to rest with the certainty that he wasn't afraid to go and do it later.

_I suppose that is the advantage of leaving your doors just a little bit open for someone_, he confessed to himself while continuing to ruminate over Kara's most recent log reports. _Someone else will, by proxy, leave their door open for you._

Bruce's ever-attentive ears easily caught the sound of two pairs of footsteps sounding off from the stone staircase behind him. His instincts and deductive capabilities enabled him to easily determine who had come down to see him even before he chose to turn around. He wasn't quite ready to turn around. He needed just another moment or two to himself before he was ready to handle other people again. However, after letting out several deep breaths while the journey of his newfound visitors wore on, he finally worked up the courage to speak.

"Can I help you?"

It was little more than a barely hospitable grumble, an overly stoic exclamation that nearly prompted one of the visitors to turn around and stalk back upstairs on the spot. However, the bravery of the other guest was quick to keep Wally still, the rabbity speedster's sensibilities once again appeased by his wife's determination.

"Bruce," Linda said gently, the courtesy in the woman's voice compelling the man to turn around and face her. "We'd first like to thank you once again for everything that you've done for us."

The Batman kept his stern eyes on the face of the former reporter, the intensity of his uncompromising countenance having long served as a source of fear for dozens upon dozens of good people and bad people alike.

Linda refused to be threatened. "You certainly did not have to open up your home to us or make us a part of your life. However, because you did, you've given us the opportunity to give our children the kind of life that they deserve and for that we will always be grateful."

"No thanks are necessary," Bruce replied bluntly before turning around once again, his eyes already focused upon Lloyd's description of the pandimensional rift that had once been in the lower levels of the Gotham Galleria.

"No, thanks are very necessary!"

Bruce once again turned around, faster this time, as he turned his critical stare upon The Flash. Wally, in return, gave a cross look of his own to Gotham's Dark Knight before continuing.

"You know, as smart as you supposedly are," the red-headed father went on, "you really don't seem to have a very solid grasp on just what kind of person you happen to be! I mean, I know you like to put yourself out there as this profoundly messed-up weirdo who's got a whole basketcase full of issues. . ."

Bruce turned to face Linda, the silent questions of just what this was all about and why he should allow it to continue almost palpable. However, unlike so many past occasions over the last 11 months, the former reporter wouldn't provide an answer.

"But I think you're missing out on the most important thing," Wally said loudly, the former Teen Titan and Justice Leaguer wanting to keep Bruce's attention focused on him. "And that is the fact that, no matter how much you try to deny it and no matter how obnoxious you can truly be, you are a good man."

Bruce Wayne was now legitimately dumbfounded. For the first time in his 15-year association with his son's best friend, The Batman had finally heard Wally say something that he was legitimately surprised to hear.

"Wally," Batman said softly. "There's. . . there's no need."

"No, I don't need to do this. I _want _to do this," The Flash interrupted, the old man's latest display of rage and uncertainty spurning his own bravery just as it had so many times before. "I think I finally see what Bart and Barry saw in you and, because of that, I want to give you something."

Bruce suddenly found himself caught unawares once again, only this time it was by the sound of tiny footsteps that began from behind Linda's feet and proceeded to grow louder as Iris West wobbily made her way towards him. Just as they were always prone to do, he and the little red-head took a moment to stare at one another before Bruce bent down to heft the girl into his strong, sturdy arms. As he felt Iris begin to poke and pull at the fringes of his black sweater, Bruce turned to see the soft smile on Linda's face and the look of certainty on Wally's.

"We'd like you to be Iris's godfather," Linda said quietly, her right hand searching for her husband's left as she fought back the little quiver that threatened to rise from her chin. "She already thinks the world of you and, if anything happens, we want to make sure that she will be in good hands."

The Batman, as usual, was absolutely silent. However, this particular silence had nothing to do with a refusal to say anything. Indeed, for all of his vaunted vocabulary and extensive arsenal of insults, counterstatements, and votes of confidence at his disposal, Bruce Wayne could think of nothing he could have said.

Thankfully, The Flash was more than willing to fill in the gap. "I know that it's what Barry would have wanted."

A part of him, a very old part of Bruce Wayne, hated everything that was going on right now. All the vulnerability and all the trust just seemed to scratch at it. It was just another reminder that, in some way, he would always be the 8-year-old boy who swung happily in his parents' arms after leaving from that movie theater. He would be a child who would always yearn to feel the kind of trust and certainty he felt before it had all been ripped away from him, the same conviction that brimmed happily in the eyes of the little girl who was clutching his bicep.

He would always have that frailty. He would always have that weakness no matter what he did or what he learned.

However, he also knew that he had something else.

"I. . . I don't know what to say," he began with a stumble.

"Well, you can either say yes or no," Wally helpfully pointed out to the stunned vigilante. "I know you usually get a little ticked when you have to stick with the monosyllabic words but they do tend to get the job done."

The Flash kept on smiling as Linda slugged him in the shoulder, the sight of Bruce Wayne looking so confused and vulnerable and, well, human, making The Fastest Man Alive feel a great deal better than he usually did in this drafty, expansive hole in the ground.

"Yes."

And not even Bruce's single-worded reply, the sight of his daughter wrapping her small, chubby arms around The Batman's neck, or the realization that he would now have to spend a great deal more time in a home he had occasionally grown to dislike could do anything to put a damper on his spirits.

"There is a catch though," Linda warned the still partially bewildered champion of Gotham City. "You have to come back upstairs and spend some time with the rest of your family. I mean, I'm not asking for all night here but we do need some definitive proof that our daughter's potential guardian can at least _pretend_ to like other people should the need arise."

Unsurprisingly, those words did a great deal to bring Bruce Wayne back to his normal frame of mind. "They're playing that. . . _game _of theirs, aren't they?" he asked with a familiar, bitter edge.

"Oh, yeah," Linda quickly answered. "And I'm not about to sit there and watch Noah and Slade play chess for the next couple hours so you're hanging out with me. Get moving, Wayne."

Bruce raised a somewhat intrigued eyebrow at the pushy Korean American as she turned to move upstairs. Wally at least had the decency to stay behind a little longer, or at least long enough to shrug his shoulders before moving to follow his wife before she started to order him around. Of course, that only left Bruce to follow just several seconds later, his patient steps soft enough to keep the head of his new goddaughter nestled safely within the crook of his left shoulder.

* * *

Misfits Confidential

So I've managed to write yet another chapter that's over 3,000 words. Do you have any idea how silly that seems to me? I mean, when I wrote the outlines for these babies I had originally planned for these things to be about 1,000 words long. Of course, never in my wildest dreams did I ever think they would actually _be_ that short but, damn, I'm really long winded, aren't I? On the plus side, I really don't see the last one going this long which is good because I think I can actually hear my mind yelling at me for taking this particular project on.

Ah well, as time and neuron consuming as this has been, this story's got a lot of the things I've been wanting to write about for years but just couldn't find the place to do it in the regular series. It's been a lot of fun to make and I hope that it's been equally enjoyable to read. Please feel free to leave some feedback, whether it be good or ill, and, just as I said at the end of the last chapter, I promise I'll get back to you as soon as I can.

* * *

Chapter Eleven Preview

Christmas Eve is coming to a close at Wayne Manor and all the usual stressors are there for perusal. There's a lot of yelling in the living room, somebody's drunk, a few people are trying to be peaceful, Alfred's trying to stay sane, Kara and Lloyd are ticking everyone off, and a convicted criminal is sleeping in one of The Misfits' beds. Though it may be trite it just might be entertaining so tune in on Christmas Day to witness the final chapter of _The Twelve Days of Misfits_: Yuletime Battlefields. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	11. Yuletime Battlefields

Chapter Eleven

Yuletime Battlefields

_Wayne Manor – 10:29 P.M._

Though it was most definitely the night before Christmas, there were still a great many creatures stirring throughout the house. This was particularly true in the living room, the current home of not only the colossal Virginia pine that Alfred Pennyworth had picked out to serve as the home's Christmas tree but also the equally impressive 52-inch flat-screen television that Cecilia and Stephanie had insisted on dragging into the room. The girls had originally claimed that they had made this decision in order to better take a gander at all the flashing lights and colorful decorations that Alfred, Linda, and a smattering of others had worked on over the course of the last month or so. However, to the surprise of nearly no one in the house, including the children, it wasn't long before a number of chinks had begun to appear within the armor of that particular point of logic.

"YEAAAAH! TASTE THE RAINBOW OF FRUIT PAIN, WALL-EYE!!" Dick Grayson yelled out in response to his successful attack on his best friend, the sight of the explosion on Kara and Wally's side of the screen making the former acrobat feel quite cheerful indeed.

"How in the world can somebody in fifth place get so many homing spike shells?" Wally asked in disbelief as he watched his kart fly up into the air while Mario's anguished screams sounded out through the television's impressive sound system. "AND HOW IN THE BLUE FUCK DID YOU MANAGE TO DODGE THAT?!"

"Language!" Roy quickly warned, his hands just as hasty in the task of wrapping themselves around his daughter's ears. Lian, in response, didn't even bother to roll her eyes as she continued to pilot Yoshi through all the recent chaos, the little green dinosaur with the thermometer tongue cheering as it passed the still recovering, mustachioed plumber in the red overalls.

"Luck and skill, Mister West. Luck and skill." Lloyd Thomas finally replied as his own electronic avatar continued to expand his newfound lead with the aid of a mushroom. "SWITCH!"

Another mild bit of chaos ensued as eight of the living room's denizens participated in the most hectic part of the current proceedings. Video game controllers flew throughout the room as Lloyd calmly tossed his controller to Stephanie, Wally angrily flung his towards Kara, Lian handed off hers to Roy and Dick performed a well-practiced, underhand lob that put the final controller safely in the hands of a still laughing Cecilia. It was usually the most anticipated moment during their noisy sessions of Mario Kart, the breaks in the action where one player was forced to switch with their partner after a 30-second interval. The employment of the completely unnecessary rule had resulted in a lot of laughter and even more confusion and bursts of profanity, particularly in the earlier days when they hadn't thought to use wireless controllers.

However, this particular transition turned out to be relatively harmless. This was mostly because the race was already all but over and the taunting had already begun even before an absurdly purple convertible with disturbingly garish flames on the sides crossed the digital finish line.

"Oh yeah, you will respect the power of The Pimpmobile!" Stephanie crowed as she rose to her feet while, on the screen, Wario celebrated his victory in his usual loud, gregarious manner. "Come on, Puppy! Celebratory Ed Lover dance! Group camaraderie!"

"I think I'll pass, Tweety," Lloyd casually replied while still remaining seated. "One of us has to be a good sport about this, after all."

"Suit yourself," Steph said with a shrug of her shoulders shortly before throwing herself into a very uncomplicated array of dance steps set to her impromptu rendition of _Let Me Clear My Throat_. Her revelry wore on as Roy and Cecilia passed the finish line in close succession with Kara finishing a few seconds behind that.

"Can't believe we didn't win that one," Dick said calmly while wondering just why he once thought it was a good idea to give Stephanie his former mantle. "We were in the lead the whole time until that turn in the middle of the third lap."

"Yeah, I think I should probably count my fortunes for drawin' those three red shells," Lloyd replied almost matter-of-factly while joining Nightwing in watching Stephanie's not-so-honorable merriments. "Particularly since I don't see my partner doin' that anytime soon."

"Ah, well, I'm still proud of our work, Nightthing," Cecilia added while casually tossing up and then catching her controller. "Way to carry your poppa through a second-place finish, Li-Li!"

"Thanks, Aunt Cissie!" Lian replied with a smile before scooching away from her father and towards the other side of the couch. "I think my dad is a little drunk," she added with a whisper.

"I _know _ya dad is a little drunk," Lloyd shrewdly answered with an equally soft whisper while Cecilia and Kara both chuckled. "And thank you for looking out for him."

"You're welcome, Uncle Lloyd," Lian replied with a proud smile.

"Can I please work with somebody who actually gives a damn about winning this?!" Wally raged, the speedster's obsessive competitive streak in times like these once again overcoming his normally stable mindset.

"Language!" Roy cautioned his friend once again, the task of covering his daughter's ears already taken by Cecilia.

"Yeah, I guess I just really don't have what it takes, Wally," Kara said dully, the half-Kryptonian looking not at all disheartened as she continued to nestle the back of her head into Lloyd's lap. "I should probably just go and punish myself. Do you think self-impalement on a shard of Kryptonite is appropriate here, sweetie?"

"Might be a little over the top," Lloyd replied while running his fingers through the spill of blonde hair covering his left leg. _"Not to mention that I'd most likely be robbed of the woman I'm plannin' to ravage a little later."_

A slow, lazy smile appeared on Kara's face. _"Y'know, I still might be convinced to wear that Mrs. Claus outfit. Of course, if I do, I will be expecting a bit of compensation. About a half hour's worth of extensive work, I imagine."_

"_Ya make it sound like it's a chore, luv," _Lloyd said with a smirk of his own, his nimble fingers briefly brushing his lover's upper thigh before leaning down to plant a brief kiss on Kara's lips. _"An', if I was honest, I think I'd rather see ya in me boxers again. Not for long, mind, but that's something I'd like to take a little bit more time to store to memory."_

"You two are doing the whole telepathic dirty talk thing again, aren't you?" Dick asked casually, the vigilante letting out a smile upon observing that his inquiry didn't embarrass the young couple in the least. "Can't the two of you just get a room like sane people?"

"Oh, wot's that, Dickie?" Lloyd fired back while Kara fixed the man known to some as Nightwing with a cool glare. "I was just thinking about that story ya told me about how K'oriand'r tried to convince you to shag her in every room in Titans Tower."

"LANGUAGE!" Lian shouted while putting her own hands over her ears this time, the move causing quite a few people in the room to laugh while Roy moved to once again kiss his daughter on the cheek.

"Here, Wally," Kara finally relented, The Last Daughter of Krypton tossing the controller back to The Fastest Man Alive as she and Lloyd rose to their feet. "You can team up with Rose while Lloyd and I go check on what's going on in the drawing room."

"Great! So that means me and Cass!" Steph announced, the young Green Lantern finally finishing up her dancing before plopping herself down on the carpet beside her former patrol partner. "Still want to be Baby Mario again, pard?"

"That will be fine," Cassandra Cain replied. "However, I still do not understand how an infant could drive."

"AHHHH!" Stephanie exclaimed while wrapping her friend up in an one-armed hug. "What's the point in tryin' to understand everything right now? Just enjoy it, pard!"

Batgirl's smile was nearly as wide as Robin's as Cassandra wrapped her own right arm around her first, real friend. As bizarre as the suggestion may have sounded to her, the former assassin decided that she would do her best to try and do just that.

* * *

"And the man is just droning on and on to me in that oily, cloying voice of his as he goes on and on about all the ways he can use the money to make the city safer and I am just using all of my patience to keep from strangling the little swindler right there in his seat."

"Well, Scandal, I can't see how you could possibly think that Jong Tao-Lau would be insincere," Bruce Wayne countered flatly, his right hand wrapped around a bottle of ginger ale while he briefly drummed the fingers of his unencumbered limb against the table. "After all, he's only been convicted of fraud, what, four times?"

"Five if you want to count the residential zoning extortion," the leader of The Secret Six corrected. "My lord, Bruce, how do you manage to put up with having to deal with all these sycophants and toadies year after year?"

"A great deal of patience," Bruce replied with a hint of the billionaire playboy act that he had honed to perfection over the decades. "That and hiring other people to do the listening for me when I've finally gotten tired of it."

"Sounds like an idea I might want to copy," Scandal admitted, the former mercenary and current global power player taking a heady sip of whiskey before turning to the other person at the table. "You're not feeling too left out, are you?"

Linda quickly waved her palms back and forth. "Absolutely not. I'm busy watching two of the world's most powerful people talk about some of the most controversial business dealings on each of their business ledgers. Hell, I can practically see the Pulitzer on my mantel as you speak."

Scandal chuckled as Bruce rolled his eyes, the last vestiges of his carefree persona completely battered down once again as another familiar figure made their way over. "So you're not going to take one last look at the living room before you retire for the evening, old man? I imagine it's gotten pretty messy in there."

The target of Bruce's inquiry let out a well-practiced sigh. "Honestly, Master Bruce. Why go through the trouble of asking questions if you are just going to answer them yourself?"

The master of Wayne Manor gave Alfred a gentle, honest smile as the distinguished gentlemen moved to give a polite nod to the ladies at the table before retiring for the night. Two more figures were quick to replace him, the sight of Kara and Lloyd casually walking into the room arm-in-arm giving the usually broody fellow another reason to twist his lips into a familiar half-smirk. That smirk threatened to turn into an out-and-out grin as The Black Dog arrived at their table and swept down to plant a quick kiss on Scandal's left cheek.

"What was that for?" Scandal asked quietly as she suddenly found herself wrapped within a rather cumbersome hug.

"'Cause I could," Lloyd said simply. There was a glint in the man's eye as his big sister gave him a kindly smile. However, that spark soon turned into a mischievous twinkle as he quickly swept in close and fixed another noisy kiss directly on the mole on the right side of Scandal's cheek.

"HEY!" Scandal squawked, the former student of Mao Tenryu slugging Lloyd on his shoulder before her little brother could move away from her and take the seat across from Linda. "Do that again and I'll gut ya," she added with what she hoped to be a dignified grumble.

"Wanted to check in on us old fogies, Mister Thomas?" Linda said with a chuckle as she watched the young man casually lean back in his newly acquired chair. "Or did Kara just drag you out of the festivities so she could see how the chess game is going?"

"I think the answer's a little somewhere in the middle," Lloyd replied, The Black Dog keeping one eye on Kara as she sat down next to Noah, Slade, and a chessboard that was slightly emptier than the last time he had looked at it. "I suppose I can appreciate Kara's interest in the game, even if I never really had much of an appeal for it myself."

"I don't really think that's a bad thing, little brother," Scandal said with a bit of soothing tone. "After all, the only people who really play that game are emotional shut-ins and egomaniacs with a yen for showing off just how phenomenally smart they are."

"I heard that, Miss Savage," replied an unkindly growl.

"I know you heard that, Mister Wilson," Scandal quickly fired back in a manner so cheery that there was no way that it couldn't be considered sarcasm. "You hear all, see all, and know all because you are the greatest thing since sliced bread. And, if that's not enough, I can take comfort in the fact that you'll be more than happy to remind me of that."

The distempered grumbling that came from the black side of the chessboard was somehow still able to be heard over the laughter bubbling from Kara, Linda, and Lloyd's lips. Bruce, on the other hand, shook his head as he slowly rose up to his feet. "Well," he said with a grunt, "now that Lloyd is here to take my place, I think I will take my leave. Unless, of course, my tormentor thinks I'm still not up to snuff."

Linda let out a bemused snort at the older man's words, the former reporter still marveling at just how relaxed the man in front of her could become with only just a hint of prompting. "Naw, I think you've earned a passing grade, Mister Wayne. I release you from your labors."

"I appreciate that," Bruce replied with more than a hint of genuine thanks as he moved to stalk out of the room. "Merry Christmas to you all."

"Merry Christmas!" Kara, Linda, Lloyd, Noah, and Scandal all said back in near unison as the master of Wayne Manor made his way out of the proceedings. However, while those at the chess table quickly returned their attentions back to the competitive match and Scandal took a moment to wave at Bruce's back, the other two people seated at the well-polished card table shared a look that had grown increasingly familiar in the last month-and-a-half.

"He doesn't really think he's fooling us with that line, does he?"

Lloyd tilted his lips to one side as he moved to take hold of the half-empty bottle that his boss had left behind. "I should bloody well hope not, Miss West. If he does then he's not nearly the master detective we all drum 'im out to be."

Linda nodded in agreement as Lloyd tilted the bottle to one side, the young Brit examining the contents with his hazel eyes and a hearty sniff. "An' besides," he added while raising the bottle to his lips, "wot do you think our real reason was for comin' in here?"

* * *

Bruce kept his steps slow and measured as he moved into his personal quarters, the 40-year-old master detective still a bit astonished by everything that had taken place. Though he had long realized that this was what his life had become, an existence shared by those who sometimes confused him, sometimes infuriated him, and sometimes made him realize why he had pledged to live the life he had chosen for himself, he still couldn't help but be occasionally struck by all the surprises that this life had in store even for someone as well-prepared as him. That being said, he still found a great deal of appreciation in some of the things he had planned for, those moments of time that he could plan and plot until he was satisfied with his anticipation of how everything would work out.

On the other hand, the sprig of mistletoe above the awning of his bed was a little bit of a surprise.

Stifling the smile that threatened to invade his countenance, Bruce kept his eyes and ears open for any other sign of a disturbance. However, the intruder soon revealed that they had no interest in hiding, the alluring slink in the step of the woman emerging from the shadows quickly making it clear that she wasn't the least bit interested in concealing herself any longer.

"You know I don't like to be kept waiting," Bruce's guest warned him, the woman's steps just as unhurried as his had been. "As a matter of fact, I've already got half a mind to walk out that front door and spend the holidays by my lonesome."

Bruce raised an eyebrow in response to the threat, his adversary responding in kind as the two of them continued the little game. "Doesn't seem very wise of you to leave through the front door when you didn't come in that way," he coolly offered. "That's just asking for suspicion to be thrown your way."

"But what if I happen to find that a smidgen of suspicion is a good thing," the woman replied while drawing her hands across Bruce's chest, her fingernails briefly scratching along the surface of his wool sweater. "And besides, it'd be a pain to go and grapple down from your windowsill after going through all the trouble of sneaking my way up here."

"Kara and Lloyd heard you," Bruce quickly fired back, the gentlemen slightly eager to put a little wind out of his adversary's sails.

"Well, remind me to send them a fruit basket."

The half-smirk quickly returned to Bruce's face, the appearance of the familiar facial tic causing the woman caressing him to let out a positively hungry smile in reply.

"It's colder than it should be. You left the window open." Bruce said with a barely perceptible hint of forced sourness.

Selina Kyle let out a smirk of her own as she curled her long, sinewy arms around her lover's back, the former cat burglar letting out a purr as Bruce responded by pulling her closer.

"Then perhaps we can warm each other up."

Batman was quick to follow the appealing suggestion, his rough lips quick to claim what was his.

"Merry Christmas to us all," Selina said with a throaty whisper before moving to do the same.

_The End_

* * *

Misfits Confidential

WHEW!

Yeah, I just revealed a bit of a plot point for the fourth book, didn't I? Ah well, like a lot of the things I've been writing about for the past couple of weeks, it was fun to do and I hope you enjoyed it. Sorry that this one is a little late in coming but, once again, it's been pretty hectic and now I'm looking forward to getting a little bit of time to rest on my somewhat creative laurels. I would like to wish everyone a Happy Holidays and extend another hearty helping of thanks to everyone who has taken the time out to read and review my work. As I've said before, the friendships I've made and renewed over the course of the last two-and-a-half years have been worth all the work and, all whining for feedback aside, I couldn't have asked for better fans. Salut!


	12. Epilogue

Epilogue

We'll return after this substandard author's messages

Well, now that my mind is back on a somewhat even keel (or at least as even as something like that gets) I might as well get along to what I planned to be the last bit of _The Twelve Days of Misfits_. As I've said in several of the last few chapters of _Culp's War_, the main series will be going on hiatus upon the publishing of Issue #83 for anywhere between four and five months. Of course, the only reason I don't know the exact date is because I'm too lazy to look at my calendar but, hey, that's just another of my many issues that could be better endured with the aid of counseling or potent medication.

In the interim break in the main series, and, believe me, it will be temporary because I'm already ready to write the fourth book, I'm going to do some other stuff. To be specific, I'm going to be writing some one-shots and shorter stories that have to do with The Misfits and other stuff in the Bat and DC Universe. I've asked you guys for some ideas and requests and, as I had hoped, you've come up with some good ones which I'll preview right now.

_Drunken Grave Defiling- _This one will be a Dick/Steph friendship piece with Lloyd thrown in for a little bit of that partially dry British wit. As the title suggests, it's basically about three morons getting drunk and digging up a grave and all the foolish chatter that would take place during an event such as that.

_From the files of The Batcomputer_- This isn't really going to be a story, per say, but more of a synopsis of the main series with Bruce Wayne serving as the narrator. I've got a pretty good idea of the stuff I want to include but if anybody's interested in lending me a little insight then I'll be happy to receive it. After all, after 500,000 plus words, you lads and lasses probably have a few questions that you'd want answered.

_A Day in The Life of Lian Harper_- This one's for Wolvmbm, who requested an Adventures in Babysitting story back when Lian originally popped up in the series many moons ago. I think it will be my first, honest shot at writing fiction from a first-person perspective since my days as a Harry Potter fanfic writer and depressing poet so, hey, here's hoping I've actually learned something over the years.

_Settling The Little Grumblies_- A Kara/Lloyd piece requested by Robinegg and somewhat supported by one Shawn Watson. I haven't done a great deal of planning out on this one but I don't think it'll be too fluffy. Still debating on whether or not I want to make this a M-rated piece (stares at Rachel and all of her disturbing suggestions) but, once again, I'm willing to take suggestions.

_Compare and Contrast_- A Batman & Arrowette partnership story that will be a bit more rooted in the DC canon than I usually place _The Misfits_. From what I've brainstormed on it so far, it's Bruce Wayne reflecting back on how Gotham has changed and how the people that work directly alongside him have changed as well. This one was basically born by Ryan and The Batchild constantly griping (just kidding, love ya little rascals) that Batman isn't in the story enough so, hey, here's a story about what he does on a somewhat daily basis.

_The Misfits vs_. _DC Comics_- I'm really looking forward to this one. Another story that I can somewhat thank Captain Deadpool and Wolvmbm for all their questions about comics, this will be a series of short, "What if?" stories about how this little squad of miscreants would have handled some of the money sucking, mind sucking, soul sucking, just plain sucking events and mini-events that DC publishes every now and then in an attempt to take our hard-earned money (here's a hint, it's a lot more straightforward). I've already got _Amazons Attack_, _Countdown_, and _Batman R.I.P. _already in my sights and if there's any stories that you guys would like me to bash then, well, I think I can be convinced.

So that's pretty much all the news fit to print in the fiction writing stable of one Matthew Joseph Roberts. Once again, I'd like to send a heaving helping of thanks to all those who have read and reviewed because, let's face it, writing all this wouldn't have been nearly as much fun if I couldn't read to what you guys thought about it. If you guys have any more requests feel free to send them either through a review or an e-mail (don't care which 'cause my egotistical ass just wants feedback no matter where the source). In the meantime, enjoy the few remaining days of the year, try and kick back, and let's all get ready for whatever is ready for us in the weeks to come.

Matt the Batman Fan, signing off!


	13. Cataclysmic Christmas Crossovers

And now a public-service announcement from Matt the Batman Fan. . .

Salutations all, lads and lasses! Yeah, just when I think I'm out of the holiday story business my dozens and dozens of fans just pull me back right in. However, unlike the smattering of somewhat connected tales that made up _The Twelve Days of Misfits_, this one is not connected to anything in particular as far as Misfits canon is concerned. In fact, this thing is flat out insane. I wouldn't bother reading it if I were you and I'm not really certain if I should have written it but it's here and it's ridiculous and it's an honest labor of love and affection devoted to those who have followed this thing the most. So. . . to Ryan, Rachel, Shawn, Wolvmbm, Protector of Canon2, Spirit Hellfire, Captain Deadpool, DC Luder, Andrew Joshua Talon, and all the rest. Thank you, thank you, and thank you.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

Cataclysmic Christmas Crossovers

The snow continued to trickle down in its slow, almost whimsical manner onto the expansive grounds of Wayne Manor. A sharp gale of winter wind added to the clamor, the wind briefly skittered against the stern brick and strong glass before seeking more advantageous routes of travel. Still, the commotion brought about by the escaping draft easily intermingled with the sounds of children, both young and old, taking what time and enjoyment they could out of the state of affairs bequeathed to them by Mother Nature. Cecilia, Roy, and Stephanie were engaging in a snowball fight, of course, the loudest members of the makeshift family more than happy to carry out their haphazard traditions with little caring towards establishing any rules or codes of conduct. Linda Park-West, pleased to be finished with the minor rigors of cobbling together a holiday-themed column for _The Gotham Times_, chose to look on quietly as her husband and their two children busied themselves with making a snowman (well, admittedly Wally made the snowman while simultaneously keeping the little ones from falling down in the snow but she was willing to give them credit nevertheless). Kara and Lloyd were snuggling, ensconced within a nearby snow bank as the couple enjoyed the splendors of a Gotham winter in their own fashion while unconsciously daring any of their friends and loved ones to interrupt the peaceful tableau.

Meanwhile, back inside, another couple was finding their own way to celebrate the arrival of the Christmas holiday. It was a makeshift attempt to be sure, the errors and stops and interruptions quite typical of a first romantic encounter but the pleasure drawn from such mistakes was also there as well, the gasps, groans, and chuckles just as much a part of the world around them as the smell of their sweat and the slight creak of the bedsprings. Bruce had stopped counting the days during which a part of his mind had waited for this moment in time, the tally becoming so vast and dismal that his subconscious had begun to settle for weeks, months and years. Given his lifetime spent deducing and assuming, he couldn't help but wonder if the woman writhing beneath him, her smooth skin sliding against his rougher frame, had kept a similar record but the feeling of fingernails skimming across his abdomen before digging briefly into his hindquarters quickly brought such troubling thoughts to rest. His lips are quick to their business, his mouth moving to claim his partner's neck, her collarbone, and the spot just above her left breast.

"Nice to see that I've broken you out of your distraction," Bruce's soon-to-be lover replied, her head resting against the pillow in such a manner that her brown locks were lifted up to surround her long, angular face. A wry smile slid across her face as she took in Bruce's shy demeanor, the little part of the billionaire socialite and dark soldier of the night that managed to eke its way through every now and again and make her fall in love all over again.

"I'm sorry," he quickly replied, the momentary disruption mixing with a mild hint of self-directed annoyance that made the short response sound curt but almost reverent. He almost hated himself for talking like that but the feeling of her fingertips grazing across his cheek allowed him to surrender, to take comfort in the understanding in the eyes of the woman he knew he could love.

"I'm a little scared too," she finally confessed, the potentially shameful words prompting her to briefly chew on her lower lip. "But we're both here. We don't have to go anywhere we don't want to."

The unadulterated caring was enough for The Batman, his athletic physique seemingly renewed with a newfound purpose as he claimed her lips again. He treasured the quick, high-pitched whimpers wafting against his ear while a tiny hand reached for the waistband of his dress slacks before fumbling against the silk boxers underneath.

"Eleanor. . ." he whispered.

* * *

_Wayne Manor _

"What the hell?"

Bruce Wayne couldn't help but be a bit blind to the world around him as his eyes snapped open, his deep, blue irises busily adjusting themselves to the sudden lack of light. His senses quickly registered the glint of the morning sun trying in vain to breach through the drapes around his windows, the slightest residue of the winter winds outside briefly rattling against his toes as he rolled onto his right side. Bringing his left hand upward to scratch at an itch that had been building up along his torso, the man behind The Dark Knight of Gotham City slowly shook his head back and forth while trying to work over what could have possibly brought on a dream like that.

Was it something he should talk to someone about? Well, somebody other than Selina, of course, who would doubtlessly attempt to employ his testicles as the base for a new diamond-studded necklace if he ever confessed to such an unwilling infidelity. . .

_SNAP! _

The sound of thumbnail-sized gears grinding together due to a push of a button brought him back to full attention, just in time to be blinded by the light shining just eight feet in front of his face. Throwing his brawny hands up in an instinctual measure of self-defense, he subsequently allowed himself to look even more foolish as the light eventually died away, the whirring noise that followed almost completely drowned out by a deep chortle that was just on this side of sinister. Immediately on his guard, the master detective turned to the foot of his bed to acknowledge his intruder with a fearsome glare, a fierce and defiant counter that he soon found he needed to adjust by looking downward in order to lock eyes with what was a truly fearsome foe.

Well, to be fair, she didn't look like someone who could inspire fear and terror. In fact, the girl's attire, consisting of a white, pink, and black shirt-and-skirt set that hemmed out just below her tiny knees, made the already diminutive figure look downright childish. Her wide, brown eyes and long, black hair, the majority of strands prevented from falling below her shoulders thanks to a pair of butterfly hair clips, only added to the not-so-subtle veil that the teenager had constructed for herself, the self-appointed guilt brought about by an unkind pubescent period obviously prompting her to appear weak and childish. Of course, only a moment was needed to peer at the darkly erudite glint that ran through the girl's eyes to recognize that she was anything but, the twist of her little lips a strong clue that she knew she had the advantage and was not afraid of exploiting it.

"This is a camera, right?" The question finally came, the cheeriness infused within the inquiry almost forcing Bruce to clench his teeth in response. "Well, I'm not sure where I am right now but I do know a spoiled rich boy when I see one. Especially when there's an opportunity to get money from them."

Bruce blinked at the mischievous presence, his strong mind still not enough to throw off his confusion. Finally feeling the weight on his right, he turned to meet the presence of something that was not Selina or whoever Eleanor may have been or indeed anything else he would ever remotely want to have at his bedside. After all, if the doll's enormous size and its patchwork body consisting of a variety of equally repulsive brown-colored fabrics wasn't displeasing enough, the sight of the thing's eyes, a pair of revolting glass, circular structures painted with a variety of reds, greens, and black swirls almost made him want to spring from his once-private divan in quite the undignified manner. However, the opportunistic grin on the mystery girl's face was enough to keep him rooted to the spot, a maximum-level Batglare quickly summoned to meet her confident countenance.

"Who are you?"

The girl responded with a cheery, melodramatic one-handed wave, a clear sign that the youth was not the least bit intimidated. "Well, I'm Anise Tatlin," she happily replied. "And that doll whose feel you've been copping for the last couple minutes is Tokunaga. I usually only use him for fighting but if it's one thing I've learned from working in the military is that you should always try to use your tools of your trade to make your life a little easier."

Bruce offered the previously mentioned Tokunaga a rather doleful glare (which thankfully went unreturned) before moving to the true threat. "Look, young lady," he said crossly before rising to his feet. "I don't know who you are but I'm not about to be blackmailed for something this ridiculous," he went on while rising from his bedchambers and stooping to pick up his dressing gown, the strength he had infused within his argument enough for him to miss the sight of Anise taking a rather intrigued look at his backside. "Now, if you truly don't know where you are then I can find some people that can get you to where you need to be. . ."

"Oooooh, I think I _know _where I need to be," the 15-year-old girl interrupted while all but skipping forward, her less than five-foot-frame allowing her to easily sneak her tiny hands past the folds of Bruce's robe and tickle at his stomach. "In fact, maybe I can be convinced to do away with these little photos of mine if you show me all the stuff you're going to buy me when we go out tonight." The shock and dismay she was looking for was quick and coming and she was more than happy to receive it as she shut her eyes while gaily swishing her head back to and fro, her long mane of black hair following her as she capered about. "Ha ha! I always wanted to own a huge place like this!"

* * *

_82 seconds later _

"PUT ME DOWN, YOU SIMPLE-MINDED MORON!" Anise screamed as she continued to flail about. "YOU'D BE LUCKY TO EVEN HAVE THE CHANCE TO GO OUT WITH ME! I'LL KILL YOU FOR THIS! YOU'VE GOT TO SLEEP SOMETIME! BOO! _BOOOOOOO! _HOW DARE YOU TREAT SOMEBODY WHO'S LOST LIKE THIS! I WANT MONEY FOR MY EMOTIONAL DISTRESS!"

Every pair of eyes that resided in the Wayne Manor kitchen turned around to see the profoundly peculiar sight of the master of the home stomping in, his strong hands momentarily encumbered with the task of hefting a 90-pound girl out his bedroom, down the long flight of stairs, before finally managing to lug the squirming youth into the expansive dining area as if she were a decidedly unwanted trash bag full of supremely dirty clothes. The girl let out a loud "UWAAH!" as Bruce unceremoniously dropped her to the floor, the surprised noise of discomfort almost bringing a smile to the man's otherwise stern appearance as he continued to loom over his former aggressor.

"Ah, so there's our other guest," Lloyd said simply, his hazel eyes briefly drifting up above the rim of his paper. "So how are you this fine Christmas Eve mornin', boss?"

Bruce struggled to quell what he sincerely believed to be a potential aneurysm (a frequent occurrence for him over the past several years, he couldn't help but note). "You mean to tell me you knew this girl was here?!" he seethed to his second-in-command before another thought quickly began to register. "And what is this about other guests?"

A startled squeak roused Bruce's attention as an unfamiliar head of long, blonde hair suddenly caught his attention, the owner of said curls slowly tilting away from the busy stove before meeting his suspicious glower. Nearly startled by the bright twinkle in the girl's sea-green eyes, he could only keep just a bit of an eye on Anise as the other unfamiliar presence gave him a kindly smile, doubtlessly employed as some means to disarm his suspicions as far as his paranoid mind was concerned. Of course, he couldn't help but find that the "trick" was working quite well as the girl said a quick hello before rounding the cluttered island in the middle of the kitchen and making her way towards him. However, the little legs on her 5'3" frame failed to successfully navigate her way through the small forest of chair and table limbs and she briefly stumbled before the slick surface of her shoes and the linoleum floor caused her to fall face-first to the floor, her awkward display drawing a round of gasps and winces.

"Oh, my. I hope you're all right, young lady," Alfred said while assisting Wally with bringing the girl back to her feet, his eye briefly catching the flickering lights of the clock to his left. "How peculiar. The repairman had assured me that the stove was beyond repair."

"Oops. Sorry about that," the fair-haired visitor began rather sheepishly while brushing some imaginary dust off of her white and aqua dress robe. "Hi. I'm Colette Brunel," she then added with unabashed eagerness, her dainty, right hand quickly extending forward.

Bruce, in response, took a second or two to look down at the girl's hand, evaluated what he should make of the situation, and looked back up without even bothering to return the gesture. "I suppose I should have asked Saint Nicholas for a more efficient team of super heroes this holiday season."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Mister Wayne," Kara said in her usual placating manner, her lips twisting into a bit of a sympathetic frown as Colette slowly pulled her hand back. "Colette just told us that she has no idea how she got here and Lloyd got the same thing from the other one so we've already got our expert on the horn."

"I am so sorry for being a nuisance," Colette earnestly followed up, the act of contrition seemingly slight but the forgiving look in the girl's emerald eyes made it seem quite significant. "And thank you so much for allowing me into your home. . ."

"Do I dare ask why the lot of you seem to be calmly enjoying breakfast while the world itself may be in peril?" asked Bruce.

"Oh! That was my idea!" Colette exclaimed, her jovial reply making even Stephanie realize that the girl was fighting a losing battle. "I figured it was the least I could do for all of you, seeing as how you're helping me get back home." The eager girl then brought her lightly clenched fists upward so that her knuckles were just inches above her chin. "Just consider it my way of trying to make some new friends! Besides, if it's one thing that Professor Sage taught me," she added while rocking her arms up and down excitedly, as if becoming Bruce Wayne's friend had suddenly become her paramount mission in life. "It's that no matter what you have to face in the day, it's always smart to get a good start!"

"Well said, Miss Colette," Alfred replied, the aged manservant clearly encouraged by the rare exhibition of good manners in the home he had looked after for nearly four decades. "Perhaps it would behoove some of the less affable members of this household to follow your kindly example."

The pointed words invoked a variety of reactions from Clan Misfit. Stephanie, of course, let out a barely stifled grumble while Kara, Linda, and Wally shared a brief round of mutual chortling. Bruce, to his credit, spent a moment or two giving his butler as stern of a glare as Alfred would allow him before finally moving to his usual place at the table, his quick concession causing the former Interpol agent to reply with a knowing grin. Meanwhile, Colette took a moment to overcome her embarrassment over being in the spotlight before returning to her willing duties, her small feet shuffling her back to the growing pile of pans and griddles as Lloyd used his telekinesis to make certain that there wasn't anything to trip her up on the way.

So all was relatively well, at least until Anise finally picked herself up off the ground and chose to take a seat as well. And, as our twisted fate would have it, she chose to perch herself upon the stool sitting next to Stephanie's usual spot on the island. Soft but noticeably sharp gasps leaked from the lips of many of those in the kitchen for reasons that no member of the concerned party could quite understand. Several seconds passed as the dreadful awareness that something was potentially about to go horribly wrong seemed to spread throughout the room like an oily mildew, the thickness of it impossible to ignore unless your name was either Anise Tatlin or Stephanie Brown.

"Okay, so who the hell are you?" Stephanie began rather sourly, the hostile words that the girl had for Bruce still fresh in Robin's mind as her lips quirked to one side while regarding the unwanted presence.

"The name is Anise Tatlin." To her credit, the youngest ever graduate of The Grand Chokmah Military Academy seemed equally ready to be hostile as she ceased drumming her fingers against the nearby wooden table. "And this day has blown enough donkeys already so how about you either be nice to me or shut your cakehole and let me have my breakfast."

"And who says you should get any of this free grub?" Stephanie offered back in an equally smarmy manner, her tone bolstered by the cross flash that shined over Anise's eyes. "'Cause I don't know how it is on whatever dirtball you came from but, around here, we work for what we eat."

"Really?" Anise asked back while batting her eyes back in an overly coquettish manner. "And here I was under the impression that this butler guy did all the cooking," she added with a cheery tartness that caused Stephanie to grit her teeth. "Does he pick your toys up off the floor and clean your diapers too?"

"Now you listen here, you obnoxious little fuffball," Stephanie snapped back while rising to her feet. "I've been protecting this planet from baddies who have chunks in their stool that are bigger than you!"

"Oh yeah? Well, let me tell you that I've saved my world too! My magic is so good that it would make your little blonde head explooooooode with wonder!" Anise exclaimed while raising her arms and shaking her small hands back and forth in a showy display designed to further infuriate her voluble opponent.

"Is that right?" Stephanie asked in a rather baleful manner while stooping down to pat her adversary on her head, the flare of anger that came about in response almost making it seem like a small wonder that Anise hadn't tried to bite Stephanie's fingers off. "So apparently your reality doesn't have height requirements when it comes to saviors? That is just so cuuuuuute."

"_I'm. . . still. . . developing_!!" Anise shouted back, the pauses between her words brought about as she moved to stand on top of her chair in an attempt to tower over her foe. "And I'll have breasts as big as yours when I grow up!"

"Yeah, that there's a challenge," Roy couldn't help but snort out before the spectral image of a boxing glove knocked him off of his chair and onto his ass. He only had a handful of seconds to recover from his startled shock of pain before being introduced to another fresh form of agony via the dinner plate Anise flung at his head, the meeting of glass on skull causing the marksman to momentarily reconsider his status as a relatively sane individual.

"Takin' one for the team, huh, buddy?" Wally asked, the speed merchant shaking his head back and forth while helping his friend back to his wobbly feet. "And why am I helping everybody up today?"

"Well, we're both quite the givers," Roy woozily mumbled back while being steered back to his seat, his two attackers calmly turning away from him while Kara and Lloyd inspected him for any lasting damage. It was only seconds after Kara gave him a relatively clean bill of health when the ever-growing group was approached by their next distraction, this one in the form of Earth's preeminent guardian of all things magic.

"Oh, thank goodness that you've managed to keep them safe," Billy Batson shouted out before letting out a deep sigh of relief. As one would expect, the boyish immortal was looking just as fresh-faced and worthy of a Rockwell painting as he usually did, his black hair fashioned back in its familiar "duck's ass" style. "Everyone, I apologize for intruding upon your celebration of the holidays but we have a potential crisis on our. . ."

Whatever other words the former Captain Marvel was about to deliver were quickly drowned out by the gales of ensuing laughter rising from the lips of nearly everyone in the kitchen. Although Bruce managed to merely turn his head and look chagrined, Anise and Stephanie had to hold on to one another to prevent them from falling off their chairs in the midst of their merriment.

"What is so funny?" Batson asked tiredly, the wisdom of Solomon more than enough for him to already know the answer to his own question.

"Nice jumper, Billy Boy," Lloyd answered, the half-demon holding back a snigger as Kara buried her face in his neck. "'Specially like the 'ittle, red nose."

Batson let out a quiet groan while allowing the others to further take in his atrociously tacky sweater, a green monstrosity of weaving with the badly knitted face of Rudolph (complete with the furry red nose that stuck out just below his chest) goofily smiling without a hint of mercy toward its wearer. "Mary wanted me to wear it," he explained with as much patience as he could muster in the face of his own embarrassment. "And perhaps some of you might be interested in learning why these two ladies just happened to show up at your home?"

"When we're done laughin' at you, I suppose," Lloyd offered in reply, his words triggering another round of titters from Cecilia and Wally but also earning him a deserved poke to the head courtesy of his girlfriend.

"That's enough, children," admonished Linda Park-West while performing similar disciplinary measures to her husband, the requisite den mother of Wayne Manor quick to bring the rowdy crowd to some façade of order. "Go on, William."

Batson gave a grateful nod to Linda before continuing on. "It appears that Miss Brunel and Miss Tatlin were brought to our reality through a momentary destabilization of our temporal boundaries. I am doing what I can to determine both the source and the trigger of the disruption but the quick sealing of those gaps lead me to believe that the gesture was not deliberate."

"Well, the things that end up destroying the world usually aren't," Kara pointed out while pulling her face away from the crook of Lloyd's neck (much to The Black Dog's chagrin). "I don't suppose that this just couldn't be our karmic penalty for flying around in long underwear for most of the past year."

"Hey! I like my outfit!" Cecilia barked out in protest, the archer's noisy defiance managing to slightly muffle the panicked footsteps of Noah Kuttler as he all but skidded into the room, the soles of the hacker's dress shoes just slick enough for him to nearly bang his head against the pots hanging from an overhead rack. "And I'm guessing you're not here to greet our guests, C.C.?" the archer asked.

The Calculator took a moment to catch his breath, the lanky, bespectacled fellow spreading his long arms out wide in order to further center himself. "I just got a distress call from Professor Magnus. It appears that his latest upgrade of his Metal Men have caused them to go out of control!"

"Again?!" Cecilia and Lloyd simultaneously blurted out, the two occasional patrol partners then exchanging a familiar look and allowing somebody else the chance to retake the floor.

"The Rock of Eternity did pick up a spike of transdimensional interference stemming from Magnus's lab," Batson threw in, his nearly peerless mind already putting the pieces of the puzzle together. "It was hardly substantial enough to provide legitimate proof at the time, particularly with the refuse influx left behind after Krona's escape from The Worldview. . ."

"But it's still a possibility," Batman finished, the small, casual portions of Bruce Wayne that somehow managed to remain after the stress from earlier quickly making way for The Dark Knight. "Black Dog, Zor-el, Flash and Arsenal will come with me to investigate. Black Dog, get in touch with Nigel Thornton in order to provide some backing here in case this is some kind of setup."

"Will do, boss," Lloyd quickly replied while rising to his feet. "Fat arse was expectin' me in a few hours anyway and ya know he'll appreciate the free grub," he hypothesized before teleporting away.

"Hey! What about me, Admiral Angst!" Robin squawked in defiance. "You're not just gonna leave me behind, are ya?" she asked, the urge to snarl back at Anise's soft, self-serving laughter almost too much for her to ignore.

"You'll be following us wih Anise and Colette," Batman bit out quickly, his sharp but gloomy tone clearly not warranting any more unnecessary questions. "If this is related to them then it would be best to keep them close at hand."

"Agreed," Batson quickly added. "I will contact all of you the moment I have found a solution to this crisis."

The Misfits were on the move at the beckoning of some unspoken signal, the odd grace of longtime soldiers spurring them through the barely planned motions. Even Anise found herself caught up in it, the diminutive magician keeping her eyes on her former adversary while patiently awaiting her instructions, a decade spent training for war momentarily keeping her more scurrilous side aside. In fact, it only took five seconds for the kitchen of Wayne Manor to be emptied out to the point where only two people remained, one who had long grown accustomed to this particular lot in life and one fumbling over their fingers while searching for the right words to say.

"Um, I'm really sorry that I prepared all this food," Colette said sheepishly, the last Chosen of Regeneration nervously bringing her left hand back behind her head to scratch at an imaginary itch. "If you want, you can just leave the dishes and I can clean them if I come back. I really want to do something for taking me in. . ."

"That's quite all right, Lady Colette," Alfred politely declined, the affability in his voice quickly putting the girl's anxious mind at ease. "However, I would like to make one recommendation if I may?"

"Yes?"

"Please do what you can to remain in this reality. Perhaps by allowing Miss Stephanie to take your place in wherever it is you came from?"

"HEY! I heard that, Alfie!" the aforementioned Miss Stephanie bellowed while flying back to the kitchen in order to swoop Colette into her arms. The younger blonde-haired lady let out another startled gasp as she find herself flying through the air on the way to her next apparent destination while the good Mister Pennyworth was left to clean up shop.

* * *

_The Rocky Mountains – 52.7 miles east-southeast of Boulder, Colorado_

The combination of The Flash's unparalleled foot speed and the potential light speed travels of Kara, Lloyd, and Stephanie made for a quick trip across much of America's mainland, the near 3,000 mile trip completed in only a handful of minutes. The others, however, were left to the tender mercies of those who could keep pace as Batman was carried forth by Lloyd's telekinesis, Anise and Colette were ferried in one of Stephanie's force bubbles and Roy was left to be carried by Kara. The smell of burnt oak trees and typical winter underbrush hung strong in Kara's nostrils as plumes of smoke rose from the area surrounding Magnus's lab. Despite the destruction outside, the iron and stone bunker-like structure still remained mostly intact but the bright-red flames slowly surrounding the outer connections of a nearby hydroelectric conductor provided a strong clue that it may not stay that way for long.

"Quit laying on me like that!" Kara impatiently exclaimed while lightly burying her right elbow into Arsenal's ribcage. "I'm not a couch!"

"Hey! I was just making sure I didn't touch anything!" Roy said defensively while rolling back onto his chest. "I mean, it's not like we both haven't seen your manic-possessive boyfriend in action."

"Boss, there's something wonky about this batch of Metal Men," The Black Dog wisely broke in through the comm. link, his brow furrowing at the odd energy patterns he was picking up from below. "And I'm not just talkin' about the usual sudden urge to kill everyone and everything bit either."

"He's right on that one," The Flash confirmed, his own connection allowing him to follow up on the conversation taking place 500 feet above him. "Better get down here as quick as you can."

"All right! It's fight time!" Anise enthused while hopping up to her feet from her previous seated position. "'Bout time too 'cause I'm bursting with fonons!"

"Formation 5C," Batman began, his instinctual desire to be in control of bringing chaos to a stop quickly spurring him to action. "Keep the battle in close but make certain that nothing gets away. C.C. bought us ten minutes with the local fire department so we've got ourselves a bit of breathing room but no taking chances."

"Right," Kara, Lloyd, and Roy, the first and the third of that trio descending in order to carry out the first part of their orders.

"5C?!" Stephanie broke in before Bruce and Lloyd could follow their comrades. "But I don't know that attack formation!"

"You're staying up here to watch over our visitors," Batman said sternly. "Do not engage the Metal Men under any circumstances."

"BOO!" Anise and Stephanie both shouted out in response to Bruce and Lloyd's backs, the shared exclamation causing the girls to look at each other suspiciously.

"Good luck!" Colette shouted with a mixture of worry and hope for good fortune, her gesture so baldly genuine that it made the other two ladies roll their eyes in annoyance.

"Goody too shoes," muttered Anise.

"Pollyanna," added Stephanie.

* * *

It took three seconds for Batman and The Black Dog to hurtle their way into the battleground, the pair of raven-haired, veteran vigilantes ready for whatever fate had in store for them. Granted, perhaps they were not entirely prepared for the sight of Roy Harper rolling on the ground while wrapped in what appeared to be an uncontrollable paroxysm of laughter but such startling events must be expected when endlessly pursuing justice.

"Get up, you fool!" Batman roared while stomping over to all but drag the former Teen Titan back to his feet, the humor Harper found in the current situation clearly not being shared by Gotham's greatest champion.

"Oh, bloody, buggerin' hell," Lloyd could only mumble as he suddenly found himself surrounded by three robotic duplicates of a woman who had become increasingly familiar in his life. "You know, there were times in my life when I cried myself to sleep dreamin' of somethin' like this."

"You will no longer interfere with my quest to win the heart of my beloved," the three Talia Al-Ghuls all said as one, the automated facsimiles of The Daughter of The Demon's Head all looking quite focused on ripping Lloyd limb-from-limb. "You shall never have the heart and soul that I have long staked claim upon!"

Finding himself momentarily unable to get his lips to work, Lloyd allowed his blade to provide an appropriate response. Leaping over the array of fists, feet, and surprisingly realistic looking breasts, the half-demon quickly teleported back down to the ground with his supernaturally powered saber at the ready. The first went down quickly with a quick stab to the gut that developed into a rightside lash that split the robot in two awkward pieces while the second's quick, right cross was countered by a leftward spin and a circular lash that claimed his attacker's head. "Wow, you are soooooo barking up the wrong tree with this one," he finally managed to get out while moving to pry the hands of the third robot away from his throat.

"Well, it would explain a lot of the whole hero worship thing you've got going on," Arsenal merrily offered before finding himself set upon by another bizarrely fashioned Metal Man. Turning his backward cartwheel into a downward tuck before rolling to his left, the sharpshooter quickly put four bullets straight into his attacker. "Hey, doesn't this one look like the chica who played Chun-Li in that god awful _Legend of Chun-Li _flick?" Roy asked no one in particular before replacing his usual revolver with something more appropriate. "God, I hated that movie!" he added before firing a specially-fashioned HE round from his handy-dandy hand cannon, the explosive spray of bullets punching through the cyborg's face before the ensuing explosion blew the robot's head clean off.

"If she's Lana Lang then I'm Bruce Springsteen."

Usually comfortable with quickly searching for his newest target, Green Arrow's former understudy found himself suddenly needing a moment to stop and think.

"Huh. I have no idea where that one came from."

* * *

One might think that Batman was taking quite the unnecessary chance as he broke into a full run, his long strides seemingly making him an easy target for the far faster and stronger opponents moving to surround him. Of course, his many years in the Justice League also managed to give Bruce Wayne enough security to realize that he was safe as he could be. There was no deterrence in him as a brief spray of plasma fire broke up the clods of dirt just in front of his feet, his boots easily stomping through the uneven ground without the slightest threat of a stagger or stumble.

"_Wo Sie denken, sie tun?!" _shouted a pair of wrinkled automatons who appeared to be carrying enormous handbags stuffed with inconsequential receipts and other unnecessary carryovers of life. _"Es war ein Verkauf auf diejenigen Sardellen!" _they managed to get out before the blur that was Kara Zor-el sent both robots crashing into a nearby tree.

"_Don't you think you're going to get rid of us that easily!" _another round of voices warned from Bruce's left, the trio of oddly-designed machines traveling at what were clearly unsafe rates of speed considering the fact that they all appeared to be confined to a wheel chair. _"We've spent 15 years trying to find ways to replace you as the most depressing person in Gotham and now we're finally going to do it!" _

Batman could just make out the hatch of a miniature missile launcher sliding open from one of the automaton's wheelchairs but still he did not change course. Just as he expected, a haze of scarlet soon assured his safety by rushing in front of the duplicates of Barbara Gordon and throwing off their targeting systems, the hasty distraction giving The Fastest Man Alive more than enough time to follow up and work on disassembling the cyborgs with his super-fast punches.

"You know, there's a slightly evil part of me that's really enjoying this," Wally confessed while putting a hurt on the last red-headed robot standing, the expression on the cyborg's face looking quite unsympathetic even as it was being pounded off its metallic skull.

Wally's diligence continued to go on ignored as Batman quickly crossed the gap between the point of his latest rescue and the entrance to the laboratory, his knees easily weathering the new kind of pressure as his feet began to stomp across steel rather than soil. The light from the outside quickly began to fade as he continued to move inward, the reserve track lighting providing just a shade of available vision space that ultimately encouraged him to bring the infrared lenses installed within his cowl into play. This decision, however, would ultimately lead to a new discovery as another Metal Man stood waiting for him by the first floor stairwell, this one somehow managing to look even more disturbing than the ones he had bore witness to so far. The creation's small stature and eerily familiar shock of black hair only played a small, traumatic note compared to the poorly designed Robin costume draped over the automaton, the wide, green mask and yellow-and-black cape somehow appearing spectacularly horrible to Bruce even as he couldn't figure out why.

"Father!" the boyish creation exclaimed, his one-word introduction causing even Batman to stop in his tracks. "Do you see what I've done in order to win your favor? Now will you let Mother and I stay with you in your mansion? I deserve to have a full family!"

To say that Bruce was merely speechless would be the grossest of understatements. Unfortunately, his silence was hardly the reaction that the boy was looking for and the imploring look in its eyes quickly transformed into barely controlled outrage before ultimately shifting into an out-and-out temper tantrum that spread quickly throughout the young man's spasmodically moving limbs.

"Why can't you understand that I should be Robin?" it pleaded, the tinker toy seemingly seconds away from hopping up-and-down like a five-year-old denied of a lollipop at the grocery store. "I am your true, biological heir! What do I have to do to prove that I'm better than Tim?!"

Batman found himself taking an involuntary step backward as "Robin" switched approaches once again, this time turning to bargaining. "Should I beat him senseless again? Would you like me to run some more ambulances off the road?" The boy's eyes continued to widen with misguided innocence as his legs moved the rest of him forward until he was only inches away from his supposed father. "I can cut off the head of one of your greatest enemies," he offered softly. "Whose head do you want me to cut off?"

Batman wisely didn't bother to pay a great deal of attention to the pout that surfaced on the robot's face only moments after he buried an explosive Batarang straight into the bridge of the robot's skull. Likewise, he chose not to turn around and risk being blinded by the spray of shrapnel that sprung into the air after the robot's violent explosion, the heat of the C-4 quickly melting the cheaply made Robin costume (as far as Batman was concerned) off the blatantly tacky machination.

"Another reminder of why I should never have children," Batman couldn't help but note as he rushed down the nearby stairwell.

* * *

Colette was as content as a clam in sand as she continued to watch the battle below, the mystic energy of her Cruxis crystal enhancing her vision and enabling her to easily catch the sights even from such an extensive distance. She had been delighted to see that her newfound friends didn't appear to be having trouble with their weird looking foes and so her worry quickly transformed into wonder as she continued to examine the proceedings, the young Sylvaranti astounded by the amazing powers of Kara, Lloyd, and Wally. Her excitement soon prompted her to stoop down until she could fall onto her belly, thus making herself more comfortable on Robin's forcefield and allowing her to watch the battle while kicking her legs up and down, a child watching a storybook come to life before her eager eyes.

"Ooh, I wish you could see all of this as well as I can, Anise," Colette finally said. "It's so much fun!"

"That's nice," Anise edgily answered, the smaller of the two young women not looking nearly as comfortable. "Damn it. And here I thought I'd never actually miss hearing Luke being all emo," she then whispered to herself, unable to know that Colette's enhanced hearing easily picked it up.

"Oh no!" Colette exclaimed as her hands fluttered up in front of her lips. "You're not afraid of heights, are you?"

"No, I'm not afraid," Anise said resolutely, her stubborn tone quite typical of a teen who wasn't about to admit that they weren't up for doing something. "It's the whole falling from that height and getting turned into a human pancake that I'm a little worried about."

Anise's nervousness quickly prompted Colette to climb back onto her feet, the elder of the two girls now determined to see whatever this was through. "Well, now's a perfect time to face your fears!" she said with an encouraging, toothy smile. "I'm sure that our new friends wouldn't do anything that could get you hurt so why not join me here and we can look down together!"

"Ugh! Would you stop with the stupid fake cheer act!" Anise spat out while closing her eyes tight. "You're gonna drive me even battier than I already am!"

Though Anise couldn't see it, Colette took a moment to purse her lips and think the matter over, her wide eyes blinking once, twice, and a third time before her mind could drum up the words she wanted to say.

"But. . . it's not fake," Colette finally replied, her words slow but sure. "I mean, yeah, I'm a little worried about if I'll ever be able to go back home but I'm also pretty sure that there's a way back to where I come from since there was a way to get over here. We'll see our friends and family again! Don't you worry!"

"I'm not worried about them!" Anise snapped back, the response too quick and noisy to be even close to the truth. "I'm. . . I'm just, I know Mama and Papa will probably waste their money on something silly if I'm not around to watch 'em and then I'll have to work extra hard to pay off their debts and. . . and. . ." The little soldier fought the instinct to break into tears with everything she had, the quick breakdown of the tough, little talker frustrating her to no end. "And what if the Colonel and Emperor Peony start arguing again? Who's gonna stop Jade from using one of the Emperor's rappigs in his experiments? And what'll happen if Luke and Tear get married and I'm not around to make certain they don't do anything funny? They. . . they can't get along without me."

So much of Anise wanted to pull away from the tight embrace that Colette had dragged her into.

Unfortunately, the annoying little cheerleader was apparently just too strong. No. That wasn't it. She had hypnotized her into not moving. Just how evil could this Colette person be?

"We'll find a way to get you back home to help them," Colette said reassuringly, her stern grip but soft voice holding the smaller girl still. "I'm sure we can trust these people to help us."

Anise mightily held back a sniffle as she finally pulled away, her tough shell quickly reassembling itself. "You know, I'd feel a whole lot better if I could be fighting something right now," she admitted while brushing her left fist against her shut eyes. "Nothing says stress relief like dropping a giant hammer on something."

The admission prompted Colette to tilt her head to one side as she thought the words over. Perhaps it was the still bubbling sense of worry she felt for her friends below or the urge to make another of her new friends feel better or maybe it was just the temptation brought about by the possibility of dropping hammers on robots but the end result initiated the creation of a plan within her deceptively swift mind. Clenching her fists close to her chest as she often did when she was excited, her tiny body rose up and down as she prepared herself for what she was about to do.

* * *

"Hi! I'm Kara Zor-el! I'm five feet, 11 inches tall and weigh 102 pounds because I never eat and aren't I just the cutest girl you've ever seen? In fact, I'm so sweet and innocent that I'm wearing this short skirt so you can always see my bright white underwear and I don't even know about it."

"Shut up!" bit out the Kara Zor-el that happened to be wearing sensible blue jeans, the angry half-Kryptonian batting her doppelganger aside with a hard left hook.

"No! I'm Kara Zor-el!" pronounced another version of Kara, this one sporting a ridiculously large pair of breasts that didn't seem to match the otherwise thin, hourglass figure in the least. "And I'm completely clueless when it comes to sexuality and male physical interests. I think I'll bring Jimmy Olsen back from the dead so he can flirt with me."

"You. . . are. . . not. . . me!" the Misfit version of Kara snapped back, each word of her response enforced by a punishing body blow that caved in the previously mentioned upper body and the FF-cups that came with them, the sum total of the incurred damage enough to send that particular Metal Man down in a significantly less attractive heap.

"You're not _bad _enough to be me!" another copy of Kara said with all the snide confidence that an 18-year-old REBEL could muster. A cigarette was trapped between her overly painted lips and she was at least attempting to wear the tacky remnants of a black, bomber jacket while sporting a pair of biker glasses that were barely supported by her upturned nose. "Don't believe me? Well, just check out my sweet ink!"

The half-Praxian couldn't help her mouth from dropping wide open as her automated clone turned around to reveal an extensive piece of body art that started at the base of her spine and ended an inch or two below the woman's partially exposed backside. Momentarily rendered speechless in the midst of all this, she was only a split second from ripping the vile thing limb from limb before the familiar curve of the _Mugalshir _cut through the cyborg's metallic trachea, a downward movement of the blade quickly ripping the Metal Man in two and leaving Lloyd standing among the recently created wreckage.

"Good, bloody God, is that a tramp stamp on that one?" Lloyd couldn't help but notice while looking down at his work. "That's wrong on so many levels that I don't even want to think of countin' 'em."

The genuine Kara Zor-el would have doubtlessly had something to say to that, perhaps something drawn out of the misguided anger she felt when her lover had taken a task away from her that she desperately wanted to finish, but she suddenly found herself drawn to another unusual sight. Lloyd, noticing her state of distraction, quickly swerved around to follow Kara's eyes and soon discovered the sight of Colette floating down to the battlefield, the quick but measured flapping of what appeared to be her red, purple, and pink wings easily slowing her descent. Blinking stupidly as the petite angel safely made her way to the ground, he needed a little more time than he wanted to spend in order to notice that their other visitor was clinging to Colette's back while the little girl's doll was similarly perched upon her back as if they were being approached by some odd, life-size Metrushka chest.

"Well, got to admit that's a new one," Lloyd said while firing a blast of light at a mutated copy of Mercury that was making a run for the new arrivals. "Harper! We've got some new arrivals! Care to watch their backs for a bit?"

"OH MY GOD! It's Katie Whatsername! You know, the girl who got hypnotized and was forced to marry Tom Cruise!" Roy screamed out in response, the volume behind his realization making Lloyd wince. "I have to save her! DIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIE!" he then screamed over the din of his own machine gun fire, the dozens of bullets tearing into the robotic duplicate of the famous startlet.

_Shoulda known better_, Lloyd realized while firing another blast that sent the bizarre copy of Mercury down for the count. "Flash, I don't know how Tweety screwed up this time but could you watch those two for me? Last thing we need right now are innocent casualtieeEEEEEE!"

Though not one to usually resort to panicking, the close shave he had with the 7 foot, 600-pound golden projectile sailing inches above his head was enough to throw him into a momentary unnerving. Turning his back on the airborne copy of Gold, he found himself taking a long distance look at a very apologetic Colette Brunel, her tiny fists once again pulled up in front of her lips.

"I'm sorry!" she yelled loudly over the riot of the battle, the winged woman hovering just above the ground. "I didn't mean to punch that hard!" She continued to look apologetic as she touched ground once again and began to scamper down the hill separating her from Kara and Lloyd, the steep topography causing her to almost instantly lose her footing and fall onto her face. Coincidentally, this physical miscue also happened around the time a giant boulder was dislodged from a nearby rock face, the downward momentum causing the enormous ball of rock to roll forward and smash through Arsenal's opponent before it could attempt to break the sharpshooter's neck.

Lloyd honestly didn't know how to directly respond to all that. Seeking assistance, he wisely chose to turn to his lover, who also happened to be looking a bit flummoxed but still appearing to remain in the world of sanity.

"Was she apologizing to me or the robot?"

Kara could only shrug her shoulders.

* * *

Stephanie prayed to all things holy and unholy that her lackadaisical attitude toward watching their guests would just happen to go unnoticed. She promised that she would never say any unnecessary profane language, refused to steal from other people even if they were rich beyond their wildest dreams and hadn't done anything to earn it, and even pledged to stop throwing Bruce's daily copy of _The Gotham Times_ back at the paperboy. Anything to get her out of the trouble that she would be in if they would just. . .

"WOT THE RUDDY HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, TWEETY?"

Crap.

"I'm so, so sorry," she anxiously replied over the comm. link. "Please don't tell B about this, Lloyd! And. . . and how was I suppose to know that Pollyanna could fly?"

"Maybe watching them would have done the trick," Kara not so helpfully suggested.

"Oh, go moon after your scarecrow of a bed buddy, Kare Bear," Stephanie snapped back, her stress momentarily getting the better of her.

"Look, Wally's keepin' a look-out for Colette so the least you can do is make sure that Anise girl doesn't get hurt," the young Green Lantern heard Lloyd brake in, her adopted brother sounding quite like the stately leader and all-around good guy as far as Stephanie was concerned (and would tell him so as frequently as she could so long as Bruce didn't find out about this). Quick to do as she was told, she quickly found the littlest member of their motley crew in the middle of everything, the black-haired moppet bizarrely riding on top of what appeared to be a giant version of that ugly doll she had been carrying on top of her backpack. Looking on at the little brat, she noticed the bloodthirsty grin on Anise's face as she summoned a dimensional portal that doused two of the surrounding Metal Men with sharp-looking tendrils of black energy, the spell quickly reducing the girl's unfortunate opponents to shreds.

"Yeah, Anise and needing help doesn't look like it makes for a good combination there," Steph said more to herself than to her superior officer as she looked for something to hit.

"Batman here. Professor Magnus is safe and secure," came another message from the Misfits vocal communication network. "Are the rogue Metal Men contained?"

"We're getting there," Lloyd replied before Steph could butt in with a quick apology or convenient excuse. "Quite a bit of refuse here though. Don't suppose the doc would mind if we just dumped all the bodies in this big hole he's got on the eastern side of his compound?"

"Just finish up quickly," Batman answered, the stoic detective predictably refusing to answer such a ludicrous request. "And be prepared to make your way to Los Angeles."

"The City of Angels, eh?" asked Lloyd. "What's bringing us there?"

"What appears to be the solution to this puzzle, at least according to Batson." The note of resignation in his commander's voice was quick to perturb The Black Dog, the half-demon quite used to hearing such a tone from The Caped Crusader but not when a case seemed all but solved. "And here's hoping the both of us are ready for this one."

* * *

_Los Angeles – Caritas Bar and Karaoke Lounge_

"Lloyd David Thomas, come here you scrumptious little English muffin," rejoiced the merry host of the proceedings while stretching his long, lanky arms forward in order to grab a hold of Lloyd and drag him forward to give the half-demon a kiss on both cheeks. "Goodness, it has been far too long since you've graced us with your sour puss and your sweet baritone."

"'Ello there, Lorne," Lloyd replied sheepishly in the midst of all this unwanted attention, the good-natured cheer of the green and brown skinned Pylian far too effervescent to incite anything more severe. In fact, he almost had a joke at the ready but, as was his way, the exiled member of the Deathwok Clan was already on the move.

"And Kara Zor-el, the other half of the deadliest couple since Sid and Nancy, you know you are not getting away without a hug!" Lorne cooed while drawing the suddenly shy half-Kryptonian into a firm embrace. "Oh, good gracious, please tell me I'm being honored with the opportunity to hear another of your divine duets. I tell you, all that innocent love and affection in your noodles would instantly turn any frown upside down."

Kara let out a quiet chuckle as she pulled herself away both from Lorne's clutches as well as the pointed look that Stephanie happened to be shooting at her. "Iiiiii don't think that's what we're here for," she said softly before adding. "But you're looking as smart as usual!"

"What? This ratty old thing?" Lorne said with laughably false humility while giving another once-over of the blood red suit, slacks, and spats that managed to mix perfectly with his crimson eyes and the similarly hued horns on top of his tall forehead. "Just consider this my little opportunity to be a walking Christmas tree."

"We need to cut to the chase here," Batman quickly butted in while moving to slide in front of his two powerful but suddenly talkative soldiers. "I've been told that Batson had informed you of our situation."

"Oh, no worries, broody beefcake," Lorne said simply, the gentleman simply too suave to pay notice to the wicked glare said beefcake provided in response. "We can get this little party started just as soon as Sam and Dean get off stage." He then unnecessarily gestured to the front of the brightly-lit establishment where two haggard but still handsome gentlemen who were either brothers or something close to it continued to reluctantly warble away to _He Ain't Heavy_, their eyes constantly shifting back and forth from their half-interested audience to an older man sitting at a table just right of the rostrum. "Good ol' Poppa Winchester," the chartreuse-skinned entertainer said with a whimsical smile. "Always looking for a creative way to humble his kiddies."

"So let me see if I have this one straight," Stephanie said softly, somehow courteous enough to not talk over the singing. "All this crap got started 'cause Magnus was listening to Christmas carols and those sound waves somehow mixed in with the protoplasmic fuel he uses to power the Metal Men and that's what created the dimensional breach?"

"Or so Billy Boy tells us," Wally whispered back.

"So the solution to this problem, which is now officially the stupidest cause of an apocalypse in the history of world-ending cataclysms," Steph said back through gritted teeth, "is for us to sing Christmas carols to this jolly green beansucker so he could use his hoojoo alien powers. . ."

"Hoojoo demonic powers, thank you very much," Lorne broke in with a bit of a classy snipe while stopping to applaud the two hesitant entertainers as they hastily shuffled away from the spotlight. "And judging from your past romantic record, Miss Thing, I wouldn't be throwing stones at anybody else's houses or tastes."

"So Batson's going to reroute your empathic abilities with his own magic to store the transdimensional energy that will gather up as we perform?" Lloyd strode on, the resolute vigilante nearly tempted to wrap his hands around Stephanie's mouth as she began to prepare a surely virulent response. "And he'll use that power to seal the breaches and send our two charming visitors back to where they belong."

"That's the plan as far as I could figure it," Lorne answered. "Of course, you should bear in mind that I've indulged in a few Seabreezes since I've heard about what I had to do today so something may very well have been lost in the translation."

"We know you can do it, Lorne," Kara said with a bright smile, her compliment earning her a polite grin from her target. "So I guess the only question now is who is going to sing."

"Well, the spell Billy Boy is using specifically requires a male voice," Lloyd said with a titch of dismay. "And Lorne's going to busy gathering up the mojo and I'm not about to subject innocent people to anything Speedy and Speedier have to offer."

"Harsh but acceptable," The Flash quickly agreed. "So that leaves just you and. . ."

Everybody wisely clammed up while unconsciously turning their attentions towards The Dark Knight of Gotham City. After several tense seconds, Batman mustered as much of a positive expression he could (in the form of a rather constipated-looking grimace) and addressed his silent onlookers.

"Lloyd and I have agreed to split the duties," Batman finally declared before turning back to his suddenly ecstatic understudy. "And I trust you'll want a hand in my humiliation."

Stephanie was already bouncing on the balls of her feet in unfettered anticipation. "Ooooooh, OOOOOOH! I am _so _playing lead guitar on this!" she said triumphantly. "I knew all those years spent playing the Christmas pageant as a way to get out of detention would come in handy someday!"

Lloyd shook his head back and forth while giving in to his desires and cuffing the fair-haired Gothamite on the back of her head. "Miss Tatlin's agreed to play bass so long as she's able to get her hands on some sheet music," the British magician added while offering a sneer back as a counter to the one provided by his adopted little sister. "And a promise to be paid rather handsomely for her services but I decided to leave that negotiation to you, Mister Wayne."

"Lovely," The Batman said through gritted teeth and the combined sniggering of Roy and Stephanie.

"And we've got James on the sax and the sound system can handle anything else we need," Lorne said while wrapping his well-manicured right hand around his cleft chin. "That just leaves drums. . ."

. . . CLANG!

Colette's head seemed to be bouncing back and forth as she continued to play "the skins", her green eyes seemingly shimmering as she maneuvered her petite hands left and right between the snare, the bass, and the cymbals. Keeping the quick practice session going for another 15 seconds, her efforts quickly inspired some of the surrounding crowd to clap and cheer as the artificial angel pounded out the last sequence of _This Christmas_, an energetic clash of the right cymbal causing a long lock of her hair to fly up and fall in front of her left eye. Her cheeks flushed both in response to the round of applause and the embarrassment she felt over momentarily getting lost in her joyful efforts.

"This is so much fun!" she then enthused, her fear of discomfiture having been quickly overcome. "Now I'm really ready to play some St. Martel's Day carols!"

Bruce and Lloyd, their shared and incoming suffering putting them close to the same page, both turned to Lorne, the two heroes desperately searching for any clue as to what they had gotten into.

Lorne, however, only kept applauding.

* * *

"Oh holy night. . . the stars so bright, they're shining. It is the night. . . of our dear, savior's birth." Bruce Wayne sang to the rapt audience, the deep mixture between baritone and bass carrying through the bar like a slow winter wind.

"Wow," Kara murmured, her eyes locked onto the stage. "I mean, I hear him singing from the Abbey Road album every now and again when he doesn't think I can hear him but. . ."

"Yeah, not bad," Roy agreed, albeit with much less childlike wonder. "A bit behind Nat King Cole though. . . but definitely miles ahead of Neil Diamond."

"And just a smidge past Eric Cartman," Wally threw in, the two former Teen Titans then nodding together in a mutual accord as if they had just found the way to peace in The Middle East.

"Can't you two just be quiet?" Kara asked through her hushed whisper. "And what's with the camcorder anyway?"

"Let's just say I'm giving myself the honor of recording a spectacular failure," Wally replied, a smile sneaking onto his face as his right hand busied itself with adjusting the focus on the lens.

Kara quickly rolled her eyes, the half-Praxian growing more irritated that she felt that she had to deal with the two people sitting next to her. "What are you talking about? Bruce is a great singer."

Wally's smile only widened. "Oh, just give it some time," he said with a cocky certainty. "Trust me, there's a reason why 'Mister Wayne' doesn't sing with the kiddie choirs at the Wayne Foundation Christmas Charity Ball anymore."

"Oh night. . . when Christ was born. . ." Bruce intoned, his slow, smooth delivery causing a small but genuine smile to break onto Kara and Lorne's faces. "Oh night. . ."

"Wait for it," Wally whispered as Roy leaned forward in anticipation.

"DIVIaaaaaaaccccccchhhhh!"

The rest of the song was drowned out by a sparse bit of self-conscious coughing as Bruce's failed attempt to hit the infamous high note of the planet's most popular Christmas carol quickly caused the pleasant-sounding gentleman to suddenly appear as if an uncommonly large frog was attempting to escape from his throat. To their credit, the girls on stage continued playing through what little remained and much of the audience offered a polite bit of applause while Bruce walked off the stage while fighting back the urge to stomp away in a supremely broody manner. Lloyd also managed to be on his best behavior as well, the Brit subtly motioning for another round of applause as he took center stage while his quick hands adjusted the microphone stand to suit his comforts.

Roy and Wally were laughing like hyenas all the way until Bruce arrived at their table in the back, the accomplished detective glumly taking a seat while silently accepting a Seabreeze from a conciliatory Lorne before the Pylian made his way back behind the bar.

"OH GOD!" Roy wheezed out, his face nearly as red as the hair on top of his head. "IT WAS EVEN FUNNIER THAN YOU SAID IT WOULD BE, WALL-EYE!" Still struggling for breath, he began to pound the table so forcefully that it began to jostle Bruce's drink until it threatened to spill.

Bruce didn't even bother to glare as he picked up his drink, a deep sigh escaping from his tired throat as he leaned back and prepared to take a sip.

"Destroy that tape or I take your children and leave the both of you to rot in debtor's prison."

* * *

Thankfully, the rest of the Caritas Christmas concert went off without a hitch as Lloyd managed to either stride or somewhat stumble his way through a variety of both traditional holiday favorites and some contemporary picks he had learned to love during the many long nights in the care of Doctor Naomi Mitchell. However, in the interest of brevity, perhaps it would be wise to forego describing the performance in full and instead offer a brief description of the more noteworthy highlights.

Possibilities for changes to the song list by the house band (quickly dubbed Angry Cheese by the guitarists despite the annoyed opposition of lead singer Lloyd Thomas) were immediately rescinded upon Stephanie Brown's attempt to cajole Lloyd into singing _The Most Offensive Song Ever_. Threats made by Lloyd to throw his band's lead guitarist through a table continue to remain unconfirmed.

A bit of a scene developed during the first intermission when bass guitarist Anise Tatlin left the stage in an attempt to cheer up/shamelessly flirt with a still mopey Bruce Wayne. A harsh stare cut her efforts short, however, thus prompting her to sneak behind and then embrace one Richard Grayson, who had recently arrived from The Watchtower in order to enjoy the festivities. It is still not entirely clear why Nightwing, a man frequently regarded as being quite popular and comfortable with the opposite sex, responded to Anise by letting out a high pitched scream before running out of the bar at breakneck speed but sources do claim that Miss Tatlin was seen laughing and whispering "I've still got it" as she returned to the stage.

Drummer Colette Brunel managed to trip and fall on her face only twice throughout the entire performance. The first incident occurred during the intermission, an awkward tumble that shattered the leftside steps to the stage while the second occasion came about during the performance of _It Came Upon a Midnight Clear _where she stood up in order to better handle the hasty cymbal work and wound up toppling over onto her spare drum, annihilating it beyond any possible point of repair. On a completely unrelated note, the Chicago Cubs would go on to win the 2010 World Series and Marvel Comics Editor-in-Chief Joe Quesada would spend the rest of the holiday season and the next several months to follow in Chelsea Way Hospital after being hit by a bus.

After Billy Batson had acquired the necessary energy needed to eventually send Anise and Colette back to their respective realities, Lorne was easily tempted to come on stage whereupon he performed a rendition of _This Christmas _that even Aretha Franklin herself would have a hard time trying to match. After stylishly accepting a raucous reaction from the crowd, the Pylian was quite pleased to continue entertaining his guests with free drinks and the opportunity to sing any song they wanted to, an opportunity that many of our heroes took with little threat of shame or embarrassment. And, as the party began to wind to a close, Anise Tatlin attempted to take a sip from the bottle of Chianti she had managed to filch from underneath the bar, thus prompting Bruce Wayne to calmly walk over and snatch the decanter away before any more illegalities could be performed. Tatlin, in return, provided a response that perhaps perfectly describes the sum total of emotions that we all feel during this, the most wonderful time of the year.

"Booooooo. You suck!"

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

See? I told you not to read this story, didn't I? Still, for those who did, allow me to wish all of you a very merry holiday season and my hopes that you can take heart in the world and people around you and (hopefully) a bit of amusement in what I had to offer. I'm pretty well aware that I took some creative licenses here (or perhaps taken them and run them over with a metaphorical steamroller) but the point here was not to tell a story that had any sense of sense. It was to thank all of you for giving me the drive to keep this story going, to show my appreciation for all the feedback you've given me through the years, and to cobble together a present truly worthy of the best Canadian little sister any Batman nerd could ask for.

Merry Christmas, Li-Li.

Bother.


	14. From Antioch with Love

From Antioch with Love

_The Batcave – December 24__th__ - 4:22 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Despite having been brought up in a variety of different households that all held relatively little affection towards practicing any kind of faith or carrying about with religious-based twaddle, Lloyd David Thomas still often managed to dwell upon the concept of karma during times like these. Having served under the command of some of the influential individuals the world over, the former soldier of fortune had lived a life that, while wracked with violence and the persistent threat of treachery, still frequently offered more than enough time for soul searching. He rarely ever considered his tarnished past as a means to believe that the world should give back a little something to him but there was still some portions of the half-demon's thoughts that occasionally strayed into complaining about the occasional unfairness of it all. After all, he didn't ask for his father to abandon him at the age of five or for his mother to commit suicide a year later. Additionally, the idea of being subjected to five years of rigorous physical and psychological torture at the hands of a mad scientist who happened to be funded and supported by the world's most powerful governing entities in his quest to create a band of loyal, half-demonic soldiers designed to keep the world's metahuman population in check during times of trouble never really made it onto any of his Christmas lists.

So was it really so wrong to simply request a peaceful holiday? A moment of peace and quiet that he could lazily spend with those that he had come to care for? He didn't really think so. Of course, one of the few things most people don't get around to telling children about this time of year is that there are many Christmas wishes that tended to get in the way of the whims of others. Then it became a matter of which individual was more savvy and/or ruthless to have their ideas break through the strife and that callousness was a quality that the 20-year-old vigilante known to some as The Black Dog tended to lack.

Thus, in the weeks that preceded the arrival of the merry holiday, the lads and lasses that occupied Wayne Manor in the shared pursuit of justice and luxuriant living accommodations all cobbled reasons to stay away from the hallowed halls for at least a little while. It started nearly a month ago with Linda Park-West announcing that she and the rest of her clan would travel to San Francisco for the holidays and eventually snowballed into a litany of understandable explanations for why one Misfit or another would be away from the job on this most cherished of days away from patrol.

The Queen family announced that they would be in Star City for some kind of holiday gathering. Noah Kuttler wished to visit some relatives out on Cape Cod. Alfred was already off on the noble quest of volunteering at a local soup kitchen under the kindly behest of Doctor Leslie Thompkins. Even Batman himself got into the spirit in his own way, the usually doggedly determined detective stating that he and Selina were taking Dick and Tim to a winter retreat in the mountains of Nanda Parbat under the claim that the silence would provide a welcome antithesis for the chaos of the last handful of months. It was a flimsy excuse, admittedly, but Lloyd had spent enough time in Gotham to realize that, as far as one Bruce Wayne was concerned, it was just best if you accepted the rare flickers of sociability and save any complaints you had for them when Batman was safely out of earshot.

And, as one could probably surmise, this left only our young hero with not just the lengthy task of monitoring duty but also with the unenviable charm as lead watcher of everyone's favorite Green Lantern/Robin/psycho.

A multitalented heroine who, as misfortune would have it, had somehow managed to get a hold of a crowbar.

"What chiiiiild is this, you've laid to rest. Aaaaaaat my feet, this is not the time," sang Stephanie Brown, the little red-and-white hat remaining jauntily balanced on her head despite the Green Lantern's enthusiastic twists and twirls. "I knooooow that Iiiiii'm not responsible, it's black so it cannot be miiiiiiiine."

_WHAM!_

The Black Dog wisely chose not to test his fortune and stubbornly kept his eyes focused on the overhead layout of Gotham's West End. _She really does have a nice singing voice_, he couldn't help but muse. _Now if she just learned how to do anything without screaming it. . ._

_WHAM!_

"Oh, bloody buggerin' hell," Lloyd mumbled before finally relenting and turning himself around. "It's a box, Tweety! Not a punching bag. How's about showing some tender, loving care here, yeah?"

Clearly pleased that she had gotten the attention of her adoptive big brother, the current Gotham-based Robin flashed a flicker of a toothy grin before squashing her lips in consternation. "Well, _yuuurgah_," she struggled out while removing the hooked blade in her hands from the sloppy aperture she had recently created. _"_Then the cult should have thought to ship their Christmas present for us in a more convenient container!" The exclamation was made with a hint of Stephanie's usual enthusiastic frustration but soon the fair-haired Gothamite found a better prying point and let out a triumphant cackle before returning to her duty.

Lloyd felt it was almost a requirement to let out a weighty sigh. In fact, he was nearly tempted to seek out a spare pair of Noah's glasses so that he could polish them with a nearby handkerchief but he bravely managed to rein in his instincts. "Stephanie, The Order of Caerbannog is not a _cult_. They are simply a collective of human and demonic spell casters devoted to harmony amongst all forms of nature."

"Yeah, well ya should have explained that to my stomach when we ate that organic sprout loaf they fed us after we saved them from those. . . Creosote demons, wasn't it? I mean, after all those messy decapitations and all the vomit those guys poured out when we were killin' em I was kind of hoping for something that was a little more soothing on my innards."

"Creorcus beasts, Stephanie," corrected Lloyd, his condescension a bit subdued as Stephanie craned open the upper left corner of the large, wooden container. "And you're certain that this is, in fact, from the Caerbannogians?"

Stephanie gave Lloyd a dismissive wave of her right hand while continuing to tromp over to the other side of the box. "I _told _you that I checked it out myself. The abbot said that they were sending us a package and even gave me the eldritch signature that would protect the contents from prying eyes and it all came back clear." Apparently becoming impatient, Robin became more precise with her work as she quickly pulled apart the sealing nails on the other side of the box. "Okay. That should do it," she added while prying a last handful of bent nails from the fray with one hand while keeping the wide door of the crate from crashing to the cave floor. "Let's see what's inside this thing!"

The two mystically-powered champions both moved closer to examine the mysterious contents. Given that she was closer to the target, it was only natural that Stephanie was the first to let out a surprised gasp before stooping and making her way into the suddenly illuminated space. Drawn in by Robin's reaction, Lloyd looked in closer to spot a fluffy, snow-white rabbit lying in the middle of the container. The animal's long ears were draped over its eyes, its tiny legs splayed in a manner that could only be comfortable to something in a sound sleep while its little spot of a pink nose slowly rose up and down.

"What the. . ." Stephanie whispered urgently. "Is it dead?"

"Merely resting, sprout," Lloyd hastily replied, his distant diagnosis apparently enough to coerce Robin into crawling forward and scooping up the little mound of slumbering fur. The slightest of alarm bells began to stir in the back of his mind as a slight barrage of unanswered questions finally began to take their toll. Why would an organization so devoted to the sanctity of life choose to transport a defenseless animal in such a dangerous manner? Why would they choose such a large package with which to do so? And, most importantly, why in the sodding hell would any sane person want to go through so much trouble for a rabbit. . .

"Ohhhhhh, it's so cuuuuuute!" Stephanie claimed for all to hear while gently wrapping the little animal in the safe confines of her cape. "Oh, wow, it has been so long since I've had a pet. This is so sweet."

Feeling a need to get away from whatever madness that was going on around him, Lloyd slowly shut his eyes until he could feel the brief tickle of his eyelashes against his skin. As soothing as the forced darkness was, however, it couldn't possibly come close to easing the tension that swarmed over him as he opened his eyes and was met with the wide pupils of his little sister. Kicked puppies left on a mud-soaked side street in downtown Bombay would have had a hard time looking quite so mournful and worthy of sympathy.

"No," Lloyd said with a degree of sternness that surprised even him. "You're enough of a pet for the humans in this mansion already. No need to bring in another one."

Stephanie's scowl was brief and merely a means to an end as she shifted the swathed animal into the crook of her left arm. "It's not like you own this place, big bro. We'll see what Bruce thinks about it when he gets back from Nanda Parbat."

"No, we won't see," Lloyd insisted, his determination drawing an even deeper scowl from his adopted little sister. "'Cause I know good and hell well that if Wayne gets a say in this then that little fuffball will likely end up in the stew for New Year's and I don't need that kind of drama on top of Grayson and Harper getting all weepy during their annual drinking contest!"

Passionate as he was towards the whole affair, Lloyd was quite aware that any argument he could bring to the table, relevant or otherwise, would be largely useless in the face of Earth's apparent paragon of will. Robin proved that for him by pinning down his discontent with a bright smile before making her way up the stone steps connecting the catacombs to the manor proper with the black-eyed rabbit in tow. This left our poor, unfortunate hero to the task of resisting the urge to bicker and bitch like the nine-year-old he never could be as he stomped back over to the trio of Crays that continued to provide satellite relays of the streets of Gotham.

His determination to focus on the noble task at hand was firm and unyielding yet still the young Brit couldn't help but be distracted by the lingering aromas from the ruins of the wooden container. Were he inclined to look any closer into the matter at the time then perhaps he would have caught the scent of haggis and rum but it wasn't long before the opportunity was a lost memory and Lloyd was left to fester.

_Somehow, someway_, he couldn't help but think. _I'm going to get blamed for something_.

* * *

_December 24th – Saizeru Monastery - 10:42 P.M. Western European Time_

Valsu Saizer calmly sat back in his modest working chair, the aged head abbot setting his papers down with a weary but accomplished grumble. Given their vast multitude of races and planets of origin, it was always a mild struggle to ensure that the monastery's many students would be safely returned to their respective homes for the holidays. However, another potentially stressful handful of days had passed and the reports had been nothing but positive and absent of significant trouble. A handful of students remained here, of course, their tiny steps broadly echoing through the relatively empty halls but that was a blessed burden as far as the aged holy man was concerned. In the morning he would awaken to the calming clamor of the bells and briefly join the activities in the courtyard before setting off to the snow-capped hills to the south. His woolen coat and mittens were already prepared, in fact, the wrinkled garments just as coarse but prepared for the labors as he likened himself to be.

_Of course, it would be kind and wise to wait for the sun_, the holy man mused while slowly rising to his feet, the powers brought to him by the grace of God bringing his oaken walking staff into his wrinkled right hand. He took comfort in the dull _clop _of the wood against the stone as he shuffled forward, his body fatigued from a long day's labors and now eagerly preparing for a well-deserved night of. . .

_"_AS GOD AS MY WITNESS, I WILL STRIKE THAT LITTLE TART DOWN THE MOMENT I SEE HER!"

Valsu tried his best to not take too much pride in his restraint as the largest of his brothers within the monastery stormed into his office. Goodness knows that fate hardly needed more tempting than it already had.

"Well, you'll pardon me for my disagreement, Brother Caleb," Valsu calmly replied, "but I still wish to believe that divine vengeance is a practice that has gone out of style in our faith over the course of the last several centuries."

Caleb's long strides suddenly came to a stop, the brown-haired, Alabama-born minister finding himself muddled in the wake of the contrasting rejoinder. "Ain't nothin' gonna be divine about this, Brother Valsu!" he beseeched upon regaining his stride. "Now you told me yourself that the little brat wasn't allowed to raise a ruckus when she came here to see her momma, now am I wrong?"

The elder of the holy men raised his eyebrows, the wizened mystic somewhat relieved that more pieces of the obscure puzzle were available to him. "So we're speaking of Miss Stephanie then?" he replied as he continued to stroll forward with slow, cane-assisted steps. "Well, perhaps a cranky scowl wasn't the most appropriate of Christmas present for such a noble if temperamental spirit."

"THAT JEEZEBEL BROKE MY DARK SIDE OF THE MOON!"

Valsu turned around in spite of himself. "I beg your pardon?" he couldn't help but ask.

The well-built monk winced in response, the flicker of jovial candor in the words of his earthly supervisor serving as quite the pronounced warning. "It's just. . . I just stepped into my quarters, Brother Valsu, and it's been trashed. I mean, all my old tapes look like they went 15 rounds with Cassius Clay. I'm talkin' _classic _Pink Floyd, Zeppelin, Santana, Skynyrd. . ."

"I understand, Brother Caleb," Valsu interceded while placing his furrowed left hand on his colleague's brawny shoulder. It took a bit of physical strain to make up for the difference in height but it was a small price to pay to avoid having to hear an extensive description of Caleb's collection of mostly Godless music. "And what leads you to believe that Miss Stephanie is at fault for this?"

The evidence that Caleb had to present to the elderly cleric was slight but still pronounced in its own way and the appearance of it prompted Valsu's already pallid skin tone to lighten a few degrees more.

"Oh, dear," Valsu mumbled in the midst of Caleb's knowing glance, the stark substantiation bringing pause to even the usually composed high priest. "Well, I shall contact Lloyd and inform him of the misdeed. I trust that you will allow Mister Thomas to designate the proper punishment?"

"Once I'm satisfied with what it is, sure," Caleb quickly answered back, his disapproval radiating from the stressed quirk of his lips.

"Calm yourself, old friend," Valsu sagely advised. "Your devotion would be better suited for guiding our newfound guests to their quarters. They will only be staying until the end of the year whereupon they will congregate with the rest of their clan but, while they're here, they will be shown our kindest courtesies as deserved to them by our God."

Both parties knew the declaration was a shameless diversion but the serene authority found in the candor of it was quick to appease the younger holy man. As if to punctuate the point, the both of them then heard a soft chant wafting from their backs and turned to meet a quintet of the esteemed guests as they completed their nightly duties.

"Pie lesu domine". . . _WHACK!_

Both Caleb and Valsu let out a startle as each member of the group took the slabs of wood clutched in their hands and slammed them into the center of their foreheads.

"Dona eis requiem". . . _WHACK!_

"Who in the hell thought it was a good idea to bring them in anyway?" Caleb couldn't help but ask.

* * *

_Wayne Manor – December 24__th__ - 6:57 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Lloyd had wisely spent his time reviewing some necessary dossiers and planning a wise patrol route in the hours since Stephanie had retreated up to the mansion proper with the rabbit in tow. His diligence towards his chosen profession, while a thoughtful measure in and of itself as far as he was concerned, also nicely doubled as an opportunity to allow a mildly troublesome situation to ease itself out. After all, this would hardly be the first time that his espoused sibling had taken up a newfound desire or habit only to abandon it just as quickly. It had been a rough couple of months for her, after all, and it was only fair that he allowed Stephanie some time to cater to her more harmless impulses.

And, admittedly, the sight of Robin guiding the rabbit along the white hills of the western courtyard made for an interesting visual. He managed to restrain a childish smirk as he meandered his way past the double doors separating the mansion from the expansive court and made his way outdoors, the heels of his black Doc Martens scrunching in the powdery snowfall. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that the rabbit was apparently rushing forward to get a hold of a small twig that had apparently broken off from one of the surrounding fir trees during the autumn months. Widening his eyes at the sight of it, his already large hazel orbs were set to boggling as the rabbit snatched up the stick in its jaws before dutifully capering back to a cheering Stephanie.

_She managed to teach a rabbit how to fetch_, Lloyd realized with a quick scan of Robin's cerebral cortex. _Un-bloody-believ. . . is that a leash?_

"Hey! Check it out!" Steph crowed while hoisting her animal companion into her arms. "Isn't Mr. Fuffers just the smartest thing you've ever seen?"

For a long moment, Lloyd could only look on silently as the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns rubbed noses with an obviously content furry critter. "Mr. Fuffers?"

"Mr. Fuffers," Stephanie gamely replied after breaking free of her public display of affection. "Got the leash over at Petco, in case you were about to ask."

Decidedly not about to waste time on such trifle matters, Lloyd decided to get to the point. "Actually, I was _going _to ask about a call I just got from Valsu Saizer a few minutes ago. Apparently, somebody trashed Caleb's room earlier in the day while he was attending to his duties and, not to cast suspicion or anything, but whoever did it left a giant sign saying 'ROBIN WUZ HERE'." The Black Dog crossed his arms over his chest as he observed the poker face that Stephanie supplied in return. "Now, given that Dick Grayson is still with Bruce, Jason Todd is no longer among the livin' and Tim Drake would sooner castrate himself than commit such a faux pas in grammar one must be led to believe. . ."

"Oh, please!" Stephanie fired back with a snort, a loud "pfffft" added on to her counterargument only seconds later. "I traveled to the monastery, picked up my Mom and we left. I didn't even go anywhere near Captain Cornpone today!"

Lloyd felt the truth in his partner's words, the second-in-command of The Misfits wisely storing Steph's use of the word 'today' for another time. An apology was already on the tip of his tongue but he was soon stifled as he was handed a thin, cotton cord.

"Here! You watch over Mr. Fuffers while I go get a bag for the rabbit poops," Stephanie ordered, the last of her demand let out just as she was already halfway between Lloyd and the manor. "Man, this little guy shits more than Roy after a meal at La Portana. . ."

Not wanting to tempt fate, Lloyd briefly watched Stephanie retreat into the manor before he cast his sights and thoughts to the world around him. His journey soon brought him to his beloved Kara and he hardly felt the need to shift from such an appealing tableau. She had been invited to the Kent family farm to spend the holidays and Lois Lane's pointed inquiries clearly indicated that he would have been both expected and welcomed but, as discussed before, business took precedent. He felt he was almost on the cusp of remorsefulness as he continued to watch the snow slip from the grayish clouds above but his many fond memories of the last year beside his half-Kryptonian lover quickly reminded him of how fortunate he was. Suddenly it seemed that, for all his ruminating in the caverns that waited for him beneath his feet, he didn't have a great deal to be depressed about.

"OUCH!"

Lloyd leapt back in the midst of his own exclamation and the sharp pain suddenly exploding from his right Achillles heel. Nearly stumbling as he landed back on both feet, he felt the familiar stinging sensation of a puncture wound and looked down to see that the Doc Marten on his right foot had suddenly been torn in two spots along the heel. He could feel the warmth of his own blood trickling from the open wound as it stained the leather and wool around his injury as he instinctually searched for what attacked him. He would have sensed the thoughts of anyone broaching the eldritch defense measures around the manor and the ground was far too clean for any natural obstacles that could have caused that kind of damage. . .

"Hold on a mo'," Lloyd mumbled, the British half-demon admittedly not the brightest person to take up residence in Wayne Manor but still usually managing to be quick enough for the occasion. "Mr. Fuffers?"

The Black Dog swerved around to see Stephanie's rabbit looking back at him with wide, curious eyes. A moment later the creature tilted his tiny head just a fraction to the left, the furry quadruped looking at the half-demon as if he wanted to ask why so much attention was suddenly being paid to him. Then, after several silent seconds more, the rabbit briefly stretched his lips outward so that Lloyd could see the sharp, blood-dappled incisors hiding within its maw.

"What the bugger?" mumbled The Black Dog, his wonder more a byproduct of shock than actual anguish. "OI! Steph! This little bugger just bit me!" he bellowed while swerving his attention back to the manor. "I told you this thing was bad. . . news. . ."

Hearing the muffled taps of tiny footsteps against the soft ground, Lloyd swerved back around to notice that he was suddenly holding an empty cord of white thread. Mr. Fuffers was gone and, as he scanned the grounds, there were no traces of little paw prints to be found.

* * *

_Nanda Parbat - December 25th - 10:41 A.M. Sinkiang-Tibet Time _

His breathing was so calm and seamless that the surrounding winds themselves could have flown through Bruce Wayne has he sat on the roof of the modest pagoda. Admiring the glories of the rising sun from the corner of his left eye, this man that had spent his life training to overcome the limitations of humanity now suddenly felt overwhelmed with a deep contentment such as he had rarely felt within the familiar darkness of Gotham. Perhaps it was the knowledge that Richard, Selina and Tim were all sleeping safely in the rooms below or that the other stragglers and champions he had involuntarily gathered together were all seemingly relishing their own freedom but the man behind The Batman felt no need to inspect the matter.

_The mission never ends, it only flickers and flows_, he mused while rising to his feet, the detective finding an odd bit of humor from his sudden paraphrasing of Ra's Al-Ghul. He felt the rippling of his bare shoulders as he stretched his arms to the sky, the sudden flow of blood to his stern muscles providing a last bit of heat before the near-freezing cold surrounding the Himalayan temple began to take its toll. Content with his work and wishing to warm up through less complex means than meditation, The Dark Knight of Gotham City broke into a brief jog up the snow-dappled roof before grabbing a tight hold of the ladder that hung there and clambering into the attic below. Shutting the attic door closed with a light _clap_, the middle-aged vigilante was already at his mild array of labor only moments after stepping off the base of the wooden rungs, the agile thumb of his left hand craning open the cover of his state-of-the-art iPhone to check and see about any missed calls.

All but one of the results truly surprised him and he worked quickly to work through the smattering of greetings from obligated socialites and casually exiled them to the digital beyond. Then, staring at the familiar but unexpected number behind the last of his missed calls, he entertained himself with a number of pertinent questions as he rerouted his communication device to the satellite relays provided by Noah's communicators.

_Why on Earth would she call me by this number? She's well aware that Lloyd is back at the manor and she's never had any difficulty talking to me through him before. _Bruce couldn't help but contemplate as he continued his leisurely stroll down to the ground floor of the modest establishment. _The only reliable answer can be that she wants to speak to me personally. I have to admit that it's something that needs attending to but I would have hoped for more time. After all, if there's anyone more reticent than I am about secrets and matters like them it's. . ._

"WHY CAN'T YOU EVER KEEP A COLLAR ON THAT LITTLE BRAT OF YOURS?"

Not even his decades of emotional training could keep him from wincing at the sharp, high-pitched exclamation. Then, with Alfred and Dick's well-worn advice about proper phone etiquette ringing in his ears, he slowly brought his right ear to the phone once again.

"Barbara?" he asked with just a hint of what he hoped to be manly tentativeness.

"No, it's the first wheelchair-equipped lumberjack. Of course, it's Barbara!" Barbara Gordon snapped back, the former Batgirl and current Oracle apparently not sharing Bruce's admiration of his restraint. "Now I'm currently looking at a wrecked supercomputer and three physical databases that are completely annihilated and do you know who I'm planning to blame for it?"

_Yourself for putting up such lackluster security measures_, a highly tactical, enormously evil part of Bruce wanted to reply.

"Stephanie?" a rational morsel of Bruce eventually replied. "Barbara, I understand your reservations about her and I know her history for 'pranks', as it were, but I know she wouldn't do something like. . ."

"How about the person who scraped out 'ROBIN WUZ HERE TOO' on the eastern wall of my tower?" Oracle asked back through obviously gritted teeth. "Or maybe a person equipped with the magical abilities to temporarily short-circuit my surveillance equipment so that she could go and commit to whatever wholesale vandalism she calls comedy!"

"Barbara. . . Barbara," Bruce interceded with a soothing candor, his many memories of calming down the red-haired spitfire back when she roamed the rooftops springing to mind. "I'll deal with Stephanie. Now we still have the digital coding that leads to the tertiary files for all our case files and other relevant information. Just tell me which ones you need immediately and I'll contact Noah."

The once placid billionaire was then treated to the unique sound of Oracle breathing heavily through her nose, a refreshing sign that the expert hacker was attempting to calm herself down. "All right, I'll have Dinah rattle off the code for what I need right now and we'll save the rest for later." A brief pause kindly sidled into the terse exchange as Bruce prepared to digitally jot down the coding sequence while Barbara most likely awaited Black Canary's report. "Okay! The first one is seven-two-z-r-b-l-nine-five-t-l-q-two-h-i-b-r-u-c-e. . . DAMN IT, DINAH! THAT'S NOT FUNNY!"

Bruce was fortunate enough to pull his ears away from the receiver before Barbara released a loud stream of invective amidst a distant gale of wild laughter. After letting loose a couple of discretionary coughs of his own, he was ready for his old friend and partner once again.

"Look, just never mind!" Barbara ultimately spat back, the sound of shuffling papers intermixing with her words. "I'll just get back to you about it in the morning. Merry Christmas. . . or. . . whatever."

_Should have left town when you had the chance, old chum_, Bruce couldn't help but think in the wake of a somehow crabby-sounding _BEEP _that signaled the end of the call. On his own once again, he briefly quarreled over who he should contact first before the device wrapped within his palm buzzed once again. Flipping it open with a well-practiced motion, his brow furrowed as he didn't recognize the source of the arriving call. It may have been initially received from his personal phone in Gotham before being bounced halfway across the world with the aid of Waynetech satellites and filtered through Noah's communications network until finally being available for his own personal communicator but the points of data transfer did little to help him figure out who wanted to do the communicating. Suspecting another affluent sycophant looking to post an unwelcome and unnecessary season's greetings, he somehow managed to put away the scowl that came with the realization and moved to answer it.

"Hello there!" he said with well-practiced cheer, the buoyant tones of the billionaire fop ringing through with effortless ease.

"Is this the right room for an argument?"

His years of training in the classic art of acting still wasn't enough to keep Bruce from being momentarily bewildered. "I'm sorry?" the detective asked back, his words a mix between the fop and his usual patois.

"Well, look. I'm just insisting that I paid for the whole half-hour. I just want to make certain I get my money's worth here!"

The master detective was completely lost in the midst of the airy British tones that insisted on running roughshod over his well-earned calm composure. "What?" he managed to sputter. "Look, sir. I believe you have the wrong number."

"Oh, I believe I do, Mister Wayne," replied the mystery man with the cultured vernacular. "And need I remind you that this is an argument. An intellectual process! It is a connected series of statements intended to establish a proposition."

It didn't matter how he was referred to. Whether it was Batman, Bruce Wayne, Matches Malone, or Admiral Hottie he would still be without a clue and growing angrier by the second. "Look, I don't know what game you're playing," he began with his most forbidding Batman growl before the wind was knocked out of his sails by a familiar round of chuckling.

Of course.

"Queen," he growled with optimum grouchiness.

"Gooooooood evening, Mister Wayne," Oliver Queen cheerfully replied, the bow-toting vigilante known as Green Arrow not sounding the least bit intimidated. "Or morning, I suppose, given where you're at. So how's Nanda Parbat treating you and the Hitler Youth?"

To his inestimable credit, Bruce somehow managed to restrain the urge to grumble as he placed his left thumb and middle finger and wrapped them around the creased bridge of his nose. "It was quite peaceful until I remembered that I'd eventually have to go back and deal with all of you."

"Yeah, that'll happen," Ollie conceded in a matter-of-fact manner. "So I'm guessing somebody already told you about what was going on?"

"Yes. Barbara just contacted me and told me the news," Bruce replied while swiping the sleep from his eyes. "Do you know if Lloyd and Steph have already been contacted about this?"

"Just got off the phone with 'em, billionaire. They're looking into it right. . . Woah. Hold on there. _Barbara _let you know about it? I thought she was still wrapped up with the whole computer crisis thing?"

Pause. Ponder. Unavoidable feeling of dread. Inevitable annoyance doubtlessly leading to an hours-long brooding session where woe be to the first soul who attempted to get in the way of his decompression.

Surprisingly kind, Ollie decided to answer the unasked question. "Well, I don't know how much you heard but we've got a mild crisis going on over here. Cassie Sandsmark was attacked in her room a couple hours ago and she's been screaming bloody murder about it ever since."

"Good Lord," Bruce mumbled, the consequences of something lurking around Titans Tower that could assault a demigod making him ponder over how some of the less fragile people around the haven for teenaged superheroes. "Is Wonder Girl all right? Is anyone else hurt?"

"Naw. Naw. Everybody's all right. Well, Li'l Wondy is missin' a couple large chunks of her hair and Lana Lang doesn't have much of a wardrobe to rock but. . ."

"What, what? Whoa." Bruce managed to stammer out, the detective apparently growing impatient with sticking to stunned silence and moving on to incessant verbal bumbling. "What happened to Wonder Girl?" The muffled but still noticeable chuckling that followed from the other end of the phone prompted Bruce to fire off a pointless Batglare.

"It's the damndest thing, Brucie," Oliver then attested once calming himself down. "Apparently the kid was just taking a nap after patrol and she woke up to find that most of the hair on her head had been torn off or chewed off or somethin'."

"Or something?" Bruce parroted back with a grunt. "Oliver, the entire tower is under surveillance."

"The cameras got taken out here too, man!" Ollie fired back. "Whoever broke into Sandsmark's room and tore up all of Lana's wardrobe, presumin' it's the same person, was somehow able to temporarily short circuit the surveillance feeds."

Brice suddenly felt the aneurysm that he usually saved for Wally's horrific Christmas carols. "All right. So why is Lana Lang there again?"

"Oh, she's been helping Cassie out with some stuff," Ollie replied, the sheer vagueness of his explanation prompting Bruce to slowly count to ten. "Well, on the bright side, Stephanie or whoever did this was kind enough to leave her with some kind of Chinese dress or something. The sprats are all sayin' she looks like some video game character."

"How wonderfully droll," Bruce replied with utmost monotony. "And do you plan on doing anything else about this matter instead of simply talking about it?"

"Nope! Too drunk!" Ollie exclaimed in reply before a well-planned pause slid into the proceedings. Appropriately enough, the spoken ceasefire left The Dark Knight of Gotham City with a suitable opportunity to plan out the slow torture of Star City's former mayor. "Well, my job is done. I'll see myself out!"

The fact that Green Arrow managed to beat him to disabling the connection gave Batman another reason to stew in his frustrations. The serenity acquired in the past day of rest and relaxation now dashed against the metaphorical rocks, the gloomy orphan could feel the creep of his antisocial anxiety well before its prescribed time. Then, like a flash, he discovered the solution, his keen, analytical mind steering him towards a decisive course of action. His footsteps long and steady, he reached for his phone and called a familiar number, the confident champion continuing to stride forward as he awaited the response.

"Hello?" asked Lloyd.

"Clean up this mess," Bruce snapped back before immediately ending the call and shutting off his phone. Then, having brought himself back to the ladder once again, he climbed/stomped his way back to the rooftop in the vain hope that the frigid air against his bare chest would gain his some sense of peace and quiet.

* * *

_52.7 kilometers south-southwest of Istanbul - December 25__th__ – 9:02 A.M. Eastern European Time _

"Very well," Talia Al-Ghul said, her brisk tone quickly drawing the attention of the two-dozen assassins clustered around a mass of steel and stone that was once a training center for her younger recruits. "I am here. Now what is the situation?"

The Daughter of The Demon's Head had long proven herself to be a wise leader, a field commander who made certain that her soldiers were trained to work as silently as possible but the hush that reigned at the present time contained far too much indecision for her liking. She broadcast this frustration by narrowing her exotic, almond-colored eyes and found that she had to withhold a scoff of disgust when a handful of her wounded warriors flinched at her display. Finally tiring of the nonsense, she turned to Ubu, her father's most-trusted subordinate and a sound source of counsel for her as well.

Ubu breathed in deeply, the slightly torn battle armor around his torso revealing portions of his barreled chest. "The situation has come to a standstill, Master. The attacker is making no movement to either advance or withdraw and any efforts we make to force our opponent's hand have proven to be completely ineffective."

Talia nodded quickly, the swift reaction an unconscious display of confidence that she hoped would spur on the courage and skill of her soldiers. "And what are the present damages?"

Now even Ubu looked mildly taken aback and that unforeseen rejoinder prompted Talia to raise her eyebrows. "We have taken dozens of casualties, Master, several of which have already resulted in death due to massive hemorrhaging due to lost arms and legs. In addition to that, five artillery stations. . .

"Three, sir!" piped in a shrouded assassin that Talia couldn't quite recognize through sight alone.

"Ah, yes," Ubu quickly answered back, the hulking bodyguard greatly chagrined at his mistake. "Three artillery stations have been completely decimated during the previous encounters, the damages most likely costing us three months of production time and nearly 100 million dollars in lost potential revenue."

Weathering the information with a steady countenance, Talia swallowed back her fears in the face of the severe circumstances. "Very well. There is nothing we can do for what has been lost already. We must focus on how to prevent any further damage. Now. . . where is our opponent hiding?"

More cautious glimpses scattered among the loyal mercenaries that only prompted a mild degree of anger to replace Talia's trepidation. "Just over the ridge, Master," Ubu said somberly, his tones indicating that he was speaking of a wily adversary that had drawn the respect of the expert combatant. Taking note of the rare distinction, Talia confidently strode to the front of the formation and looked over a thin sand bunker that ran along the southern perimeter of what was once a thriving production center responsible for crafting modified AK-47's and Mosin Nagant rifles for a variety of different terrorist sects and small private armies alike. Looking over the destruction, Talia was quick to recognize that there was precious little left to rebuild from as what was once four adjoining buildings had been reduced largely to rubble with only the center complex remaining standing. The once sturdy structure was pockmarked with cracks in the cement and apertures doubtlessly caused by artillery fire.

Then, as one might guess if they had abandoned all sense of reason, Talia found a most unusual sight indeed. There was a little, fluffy, white rabbit hopping about one of the larger mounds of rubble, its light coat somewhat sullied by some of the sand and other debris but still looking astonishingly clean given the unkempt circumstances.

Of course, the most important matter on the agenda, as far as Talia was concerned, was that she had yet to locate any sign of a threat.

"What? Behind the rabbit?" Talia finally asked.

Ubu's eyes were wide as he sucked in a deep breath. "It _is _the rabbit," he replied severely, his counterstatement raising a grip of fear that seemed to take hold of a good portion of the surrounding assassins.

"YOU MANGY, PALESTINIAN CUR!" Talia spat back at the wincing Ubu. "What in Allah's name has taken hold of all of you. . ."

"LOOK!" screamed one of the assassins to Talia's left, the panicked wail instantly turning all attention back to the suddenly moving rabbit. They continued to look on as the tiny mammal trundled closer to the building with small, timid hops, the little animal craning its tiny neck upward as if it was taking stock of his surroundings. Then, quick to his work, he employed his unnaturally strong jaws to chew through the steel and mortar walls with buzzsaw-like speed and efficiency. Long, frightful seconds passed as the early morning was tortured with the sharp sounds of bending metal and crumbling brick as the rabbit continued to gnaw his way up, down, back, and forth. Then, after coming to the other end of the building, Talia and the remaining assassins were able to clearly see the words ROBIN WUZ HERE TOO masticated through the eastern wall only seconds before the building collapsed, the rabbit's wide jaws flapping madly as if it were laughing at the utter devastation.

Talia stared at the scene with her mouth hanging open like a dead fish, the usually well-spoken genius simply left with nothing to say. A loud popping sound rose from the west to take advantage of the silence and soon a streak of black was rushing through the ruined complex. Looking on as the figure snatched up the wildly resisting engine of destruction, Talia could just make out the figure of The Black Dog, her beloved's second-in-command, before the British half-demon quickly teleported both he and the creature away.

Silence was left to reign over the surrounding destruction as Talia and her assassins were left to survey the imperfect mortality of each of their fates and destinies. As one could expect, it took merely ten seconds for Talia to grow weary of such a pointless exercise and then calmly informed her subordinates that she was retiring for the rest of the holiday.

* * *

_The Batcave – December 24__th__ – 10:42 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

"Bloody buggerin' hell, where did it run off to now?" The Black Dog roared with the utmost frustration. "Tweety, did ya have the force barrier up or didn't ya?"

"It's up! It's up!" Robin yelled back, her tones equally urgent as she continued to focus the bulk of her attentions on maintaining the emerald force barrier that blanketed everything within a 200-meter radius. The decision and the magnitude of the safety measure was a conscious gesture from both parties as Lloyd and Stephanie both recognized that they needed a battlefield large enough for Lloyd to operate in but small enough to keep property damage at a minimum. Quickly agreeing that the miles of rock-strewn corridors that lay west of the massive vehicle pool was most likely their best bet, Stephanie was chosen to stay behind and get things prepared while Lloyd took out his frustrations on what had quickly escalated into a most frustrating pursuit. "Remember. Mr. Fuffers isn't a teleporter so he has to be around. . . BEHIND YOU!"

Lloyd wasn't quite quick enough to respond in time as he felt the horrifying sensation of tiny, pink-padded feet on his shoulder. Feeling his blood run cold despite the body heat of his opponent, he instinctually managed to teleport away but that only brought the rabbit with him on the short and fruitless escapade.

"Bazinga," Lloyd heard the beast growl out before it sank its sharp fangs into the right side of his neck. He felt the scream rattle against the holes in his trachea as it exploded through his lips but he managed to hurl the rabbit to the ground before it could do anymore damage. Circulating the flow of demonic energy through his body as he watched the creature's descent, he quickly summoned a half-dozen flame bolts in an attempt to roast his opponent where it stood. Success continued to caper away from him, however, as the creature was already on the move, the diminutive bringer of chaos evading the blasts with a speed and precision that would have left even The Flash hard pressed to match it.

On the other hand, his years of experience in magic and energy manipulation were not the only gifts that The Black Dog could bring to the table. He proved that by pushing his stern mind and agile body through dozens of different short-range teleports. Some took him outside of Stephanie's barrier while others were merely from one spot of the battlefield to the other but every maneuver was set up for one purpose in mind. The moment finally came when the rabbit started to get a bit more predictable with its impossibly fast hopping and skipping and the half-demon could anticipate where it was going to be.

Putting his hypothesis into motion, Lloyd swerved into the rabbit's path. His gleaming, silver saber at the ready, The Black Dog brought down the _Mugalshir _with a textbook downwards slash that sliced the rabbit into nearly two even halves with an explosion of blood and gore. The attack was quite impressive, as far as Lloyd was concerned. Of course, the whole self-gratification thing was somewhat impeded by the fact that the rabbit instantly put itself back together again.

"This is bleeding ridiculous!" Lloyd spat back. "I knew I should have just stayed in bed and. . . and. . . OH, GOD! IT'S ON ME AGAIN!"

Robin managed to scream out a warning even as the rabbit somehow managed to worm its way up Lloyd's left pant leg and through his shirt before popping up through the neck hole with a bright smile on its blood-drenched teeth.

"Your mother plays card games in hell!" the beast pronounced with a demonic rumble before Lloyd pushed it away with a telekinetic burst. The instinctual response was strong enough to send the beast hurtling into the force barrier but the seemingly immortal monster recovered just as quickly from this grievous wound as the last, the deceptively cute slaughterer flapping its jaws with laughter in the face of his foe's utter ineptitude.

The Black Dog gnashed his teeth in the face of his adversary's confidence. The hardened warrior was already preparing for the next round until the sound of an ethereal voice ringing through his thoughts finally brought upon a much needed light of hope.

"_You've done well holding off the beast, Lloyd," _assured Billy Batson, the ordained guardian of all things mystic. _"However, as you have seen, any damage you do will ultimately be healed by the dark forces that empower this monstrosity. I have found the champion that will be able to do harm to The Beast but you must be the one to summon it! This is your destiny!" _

"NO! THIS IS NOT MY DESTINY!" Lloyd bellowed back as he caught the rabbit by the neck with both hands as it was leaping upward to take off his head. "I refuse to believe that fate prepared me to take on something called _Mr. Fuffers _so just tell me what the chant is so I can finish this utter tripe!"

"_Very well," _Batson replied, the former Captain Marvel proving to be quite understanding given the severity of the circumstances at hand. _"You must repeat this chant three times in succession to summon the portal that will bring the slayer of The Beast into our dimension. The chant is Ekke Ekke Ekke Ekke Ptang Zoo Boing Zow Zing."_

Staring straight into the tiny, blood-drenched maw of his opponent, Lloyd found himself surprised that he wasn't weirded out by this as much as he should have been. "Ekke Ekke Ekke Ekke Ptang Zoo Boing Zow Zing!" he exclaimed, his instinct to curse in frustration somehow stifled as the rabbit slipped free from his grip. "Ekke Ekke Ekke Ekke Ptang Zoo BoINIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!"

Outside of the field, Stephanie let out a pained gasp as the rabbit managed to sneak around her distracted comrade and clamping its sharp jaws down onto a certain, sensitive part of Lloyd's anatomy. Thinking quickly and acting just as hastily, the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns lowered just enough of the barrier to summon a spiraling beam of emerald energy that batted Mr. Fuffers off of The Black Dog's meat and two veg. Then, having left Lloyd with some time as her former pet recovered, the half-demon managed to finish the chant successfully, albeit at a much higher and strained tone than the efforts before.

A gleaming, golden portal quickly opened within the barrier without any further preamble and a figure leapt from the gateway with an excited whoop. Her wide, green eyes gleaming with excitement, she swooped The Black Dog into her arms and leapt high into the air just as the beast leapt to finish the both of them with a single bound. Keeping both herself and her cargo aloft by gliding through the air, the champion from another reality easily made it through the small aperture Stephanie provided within the barrier before the Green Lantern was forced to shut it in order to keep the rabbit inside. Ever the professional, she safely settled the woefully injured Lloydat Robin's side before launching back onto the battlefield, her long, blonde hair twisting and twirling along with her to ensure a safe landing.

Because, you see, the champion had long, blonde hair tied in a kicky ponytail.

And a pink beret with a matching shirt and kneepads.

And was, in fact, a chimpanzee.

Suffice it to say, not even someone as insanely loquacious as Stephanie Brown could find something to say to the scene that played out before her. In fact, she could do little more than offer a sympathetic stare towards Lloyd as a series of metal barrels seemed to pop out from nowhere at all. Equally silent as the diminutive heroine somehow managed to support the weight of the barrels by the strength of her hair alone, Robin could only look on in wonder as the stylishly attired primate managed to use Mr. Fuffers's speed against himself and direct the barrels straight into the path of the rabbit's focused charges. Soon Mr. Fuffers knew defeat after four such brutal encounters and, as the beret-wearing savior of the world somehow produced an electric guitar out of thin air and played out a killer riff without the aid of an amplifier, Stephanie could only look on in wonder.

It was, after all, the most magical time of the year.

* * *

_Wayne Manor – December 25__th__ – 1:23 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Lloyd Thomas simply did not care anymore. It didn't matter that Batson had managed to figure out that The Order of Caerbannog had somehow been infiltrated by Sinestro or that the former overlord of Qward had chosen to summon a monster that would feed on Stephanie's most immature wishes. He couldn't give a toss that the purple-skinned mastermind had managed to retreat back to the anti-matter universe and all the apologies and hastily-baked oatmeal cookies his little sister could offer him couldn't lift his mood as he stomped up the main stairwell on his way back to his bedchamber.

On the other hand, the little exchange he had with the lady chimpanzee was quite nice. In addition to being a top-notch warrior and a killer guitar player, the destined slayer of The Beast of Caerbannog, as Lloyd referred to it in the ensuing case file, proved to be quite the gracious visitor. All she demanded for saving his life was a bushel of bananas and a jar of honey with which to dip them in and, after some kindly words and a doff of her bright beret, the little chimpanzee tromped back to her home in the Kongo Jungle through the portal that Lloyd created for her. Simply put, it was refreshing to see a hero who took care of these kinds of catastrophes with their own effort, grace, and style rather than pushing their frustrations and labors out on British half-demons who, as far as they were concerned, already had enough on their plate.

"Sod 'em all," Lloyd grumbled as he moved closer to his safe haven. "Sod annoying little sisters and cranky old goddamn vigilantes and Grape Ape impersonators. From now on, it's just me, a little nip of brandy, a good book, and a room where everybody else better stay the _fuck _away from me."

Seconds later, The Black Dog opened the door to his room and received his wish.

And, for an added bonus, Kara Zor-el was waiting for him.

Wearing his Scott Parker jersey, the claret with the sky blue sleeves flowing against her long torso as she lay across the bed.

Wearing his Scott Parker jersey and nothing else.

_Oh sweet, merciful Jesus_.

"Are we done whinging, Mister Thomas?" asked The Last Daughter of Krypton, her smile devastatingly alluring as she spread her slim, muscular arms across the sheets.

Perhaps because of his previous vitriol, Lloyd suddenly found himself at a significant loss for words. On the other hand, this sudden inability could very well have been due to the fact that much of his blood had been drained away from his brain and towards other portions of his body.

"I. . . I thought you were staying in Smallville."

Kara's smile shifted from sexy to tender as she floated up to her feet, the West Ham jersey serving its owner well as it did precious little to cover her long legs. "Well, while you were working on the case file, Stephanie decided to go to Smallville and drag me out of my comfortable bed," she replied while moving towards her lover with wonderfully slow steps. "She told me about what happened and, seeing that you weren't really up for making the trip, I decided to come back home instead."

Angry as he had been, Lloyd wasn't nearly about to complain as he simply accepted Kara's lips upon his. Deepening the kiss for as long as she allowed, the former mercenary was having a hard time remembering what he was mad about until Kara pulled away again.

"So let me ask you a question, Mister Thomas," Kara began again with the best pout she could muster, her lips brushing against Lloyd's chin. "Are you a goer? 'Ey? Nudge nudge. Knowwat I mean?"

Despite his previous injuries, Lloyd found himself quite eager to prove that he was.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

And as we leave Lloyd to his much-deserved reward, allow me to personally express the hatred I have for my many readers and handful of reviewers for inspiring to bring this insanity to its fruition. I have spent nearly 15 hours planning, cobbling and editing a story that is nothing but an enormous ball of scarring tripe and there's one person in particular that deserves a good percentage of my ire. She is occasionally frustrating, at times obnoxious with her addiction to certain obnoxious elements of popular culture (it took me nearly two years to convince her about the flaws of Twilight, people) and she is the greatest little sister that any cranky teacher/factory worker/Batman fan could ever hope to have.

Love ya, Li-Li. And for the rest of you, have a happy holidays and hope to God that I don't torture you with another one-shot when next year rolls around.

Oh yeah. . . reviewing would be nice.

Don't make me sic Dixie Kong on you.


	15. Holy Pursuing My True Self, Batman!

Chapter 15

Holy Pursuing My True Self, Batman!

_December 24__th__ – 12:09 P.M. _

While most of us would associate the Christmas holidays with snow-capped winter mornings, the inevitability of familial encounters and the giving and exchanging of presents delivered both from the heart and the pocketbook, the young woman who was strolling down the gray, empty streets of downtown Inaba had come to accept the last days of the year as an inexorable inevitability. Now there was no more room for stalling, the opportunities for postponing the painful events to come now null and void. Today was the day that they had all agreed to be the final deadline, the absolute limit between the quiet safety of their surroundings and the diaphanous doom that continued to hover around them and drawing closer with every passing day. Now they would fight and find peace or die and be warped in the dark emotions that prevented those that would remain from ever truly living.

Of course, that wasn't nearly enough to keep Chie Satonaka from believing that she should just surrender to the doom and gloom. Displaying the cheerful optimism that had made her a social butterfly in spite of her tomboyish ways, the high-schooler continued to bob her head to the beat of her heavy boots clomping against the side walk. Her short, brown hair dipped and rose with the rhythm as her naked, pink lips whistled a sped-up rendition of the theme from _Enter the Dragon_, the familiar attitude from the martial arts film fanatic making the few people still brave enough to troll the streets look at her as if maybe it was just another day. A gust of winter wind attempted to interrupt the proceedings as its frosty clutches lay claim to the girl's short but powerful legs but a simple marshalling of her own willpower was enough to keep Chie comfy even as goose bumps began to sprout upon the skin uncovered by her gray skirt and the brownish-black bicycle shorts that lay underneath the lower half of her school uniform.

As far as she was concerned, Chie was going to do her best to show anyone, any_thing_ that she wasn't afraid to do what she thought was right. Her sixteen years had given her plenty of opportunities to read stories and watch tales of extraordinary people who fought for what they believed in and protected the people that they cared for and, now that she had her own opportunity to do so, she wasn't about to let anyone take it away from her. The thought of such an ample supply of self-determination inevitably prompted the martial artist to cease her whistling and turn her lips into a bright smile as she jammed her hands into the pockets of her school jacket as she arrived at the parking lot of _Junes_, her hometown's first, real-life supermarket. The store had caught a lot of flak for taking valuable business away from the local retailers but the glossy cavalcade of low-cost products was the last thing on her mind as she began to break into a brisk jog on the way to the local eatery and the familiar long table that awaited her.

The fact that she was the last to arrive didn't come as a huge surprise. It was nearly four kilometers from her house to the store, after all. Still, there was a fair supply of understandable consternation as she gave her silent greeting to the soldiers around her and it wasn't before long until she did what she could to smooth the tension that came from that as she sat down at her usual spot. She felt a gentle nudge against her left leg and tried not to smile too brightly as she felt the eyes of Souji Seta settle fully upon her. A recent arrival to Inaba, a town that was not at all accustomed to fresh faces, she had immediately become quite determined to befriend the reticent fellow as soon as she could. Her stubborn diligence first earned her an adventure that she could have never dreamed of, carried on until she had gained a sparring partner that was patient enough to endure her obsessions before it finally netted Chie her first, real-life boyfriend. And, as she was guiltily prone of doing when she overcame the odds and secured an impressive victory, the sociable sophomore supplied her own rewards as she ran her small fingers through Souji's short, black hair.

"Y'know, I still think you should have kept your hair its natural color," she mused aloud, her verbal wanderings continuing to try the patience of those around her.

Souji, staying to form, first expressed himself through abject silence. In this case it was a look of mild exhaustion that flickered through his silver eyes and Chie nearly cursed under her breath by how the butterflies in her stomach were so quick to flutter. "I was just getting tired of it," he said softly, his candor indicating that it was a struggle to even get out that simple reply. "I mean, how many times do I need people to stare at me because I'm a teenager with gray hair?"

"It's _cute_!" Chie exclaimed in return, the bold admission soon overloading her limited ability to express affection and forcing a deeply crimson flush to emerge upon her heart-shaped face. "Um, uhhhh, well," she began to stutter in the face of the twinkle in Souji's eyes and the noticeable stares of friends. "That's not to say that you're not cute! Or hot! I mean, you're my boyfriend so of course you're going to be cute to me. . . butbut I'm sure you are to other people but. . . um. . ." Finally caving in to the knowing stares of her nearest and dearest, the human avatar of Suzuka Gongen slumped her arms against the table and slunk her face into the space in between. "Can I please stop talking now?"

"Well, you'll get no argument here," came the sarcastic rejoinder of the team's undisputed amiable loudmouth. Rising to her feet to better hammer home her points, Stephanie clenched her right fist while sweeping her eyes towards all available listeners. "We can worry about how Chie is going to embarrass herself later. Right now we have to worry about that whole 'saving the world from the all-encompassing darkness' thing. Y'know, the dire threat that was supposed to envelop this town and then the world by the end of the year?"

"Oh, there's no argument there, Steffie," Souji interceded, the usually taciturn teen drawing an undue amount of attention. "Still, there's also the question about why we're wearing matching outfits again."

There was an unplanned suffusion of color to Stephanie's cheeks as the others took in the opportunity to examine the similarities in attire. Of course, while it was expected that Souji was wearing the black slacks, black coat, and white undershirt that made up the winter school uniform for the young men at Inaba High School, the fact that Stephanie was wearing the same attire could have been conceived as something that could draw attention. "Look! It's just comfortable, all right? The bottom line now is how we're going to deal with that asshole who murdered Cissie-senpai and is trying to follow that up by killing everyone else."

Chie summoned her impressive determination upon the mention of Tohru Adachi, the former understudy of Souji's uncle who had recently revealed himself to be the mastermind behind the series of bizarre murders and kidnappings that had captured the fears of the entire town. The fact that the seemingly dim-witted junior detective had managed to pull off his sick feats underneath their noses was more than enough to tempt her into planning how she was going to kick the sick bastard so hard that he'd kiss the moon but Stephanie finally beat her to the punch.

"Now he's in 'The TV World'," Stephanie carried on, the young Green Lantern almost mumbling her words through gritted teeth. "He's trying to twist reality so that the darkness there would become strong enough to overwhelm everything else and we're the only ones who can stop him. We have to bring Cissie's killer to justice!"

"Wow! Little Miss Cross Dresser is all serious today, isn't she? Man, I'd be feeling all guilty right now if I haven't been working day and night training to grow stronger just in case something exactly like this was going to happen."

"Oh, like you're one to talk!" Stephanie groused back even as her irritant continued to draw in the laughter. "And get your feet off the table! I don't need the customers thinking that they can get away with it and I _don't _need to see your hairy legs!"

Still pleased that he was able to take Wally's spot in the story at the eleventh hour of planning, Roy Harper seemed to have no issue with ignoring the virulence of his fellow high-school sophomore. And, given that the sharpshooter was presently attired in a knee-length red _fuku _dress with a black trim and a similarly shaded button-up shirt that was having a great deal of difficulty holding in his broad chest, one would think that he would feel a bit less comfortable. Yet he managed to persevere (thanks in no small part to the added bonus of irritating the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns) and added on to his pleasure by stretching his arms back so that his fingers could wrap around the back of his head.

"Hey, I'm just playing with the hand that's been given to me," the former Checkmate agent replied with a typically debonair smirk. "Besides, our dear overseer always thought that Yukiko was the most boring character in the game so, naturally, he decided to change her the most and, thus, here I am."

"All of you would be better off if you paid more attention to the task at hand," reminded a grim, determined baritone that instantly drew the attention of everyone around. That duty done, the other seven ladies and gentlemen seated at the table were able to get a full view of Bruce Wayne decked out in black bike leathers that enveloped the lower body of the teenaged billionaire like a second skin. His aggrandized attempt to establish his image of a bad ass was made complete with the addition of a sleeveless black t-shirt with a skull plastered over the front that only further embellished the pale but powerful musculature of a young man who clearly had better things to do than to get out and see the sun.

"As I was saying, it is up to us to not only bring Tohru Adachi to justice but to protect the city from anything this killer would bring upon my city! If you can't understand the importance of this then you aren't needed on the team."

"Oh, for God's sakes, this isn't just _your _city, Bruce," Souji insisted, the chosen human representative of Izanagi momentarily adopting a British lilt in his voice before the author remembered that such an addition wouldn't have made any sense. "And stop making dolls, for Christ's sakes!"

Bruce responded with a heartrendingly broody frown, his haunted eyes momentarily focused upon his vigilantly crafted marionette of Catwoman. He had worked for days on the precious project and still admired the quality of the end product yet fate was already tempting him towards a new project. He had dreamed up a rougher but more earnest creation with black stockings, blonde hair, and a smile that could stop traffic. Then, even as he was horrified how his muscles seemed to steer him onward, he reached for the swathes of purple cloth and wondered what shade of green would be most appropriate for the hair of his damned anticipations.

"Why!" he yelled forcefully. "Why must fate torture me so?"

"All right, there clearly isn't any reason to be found there in the present time," interrupted another, more organized and authoritative speaker. Gently patting her boyfriend's shoulder, the young woman briefly coughed before returning to the task at hand. "As we have identified, Tohru Adachi has managed to acclimate himself to the unique conditions of the TV world with alarming ability. Perhaps it's just the matter of how eagerly he seems to be able to give in to the basest of his negative emotions but the fact remains that his plans must be stopped. His influence will only continue to serve as a conduit for the Shadows and allow them to gain more control over our world until they're allowed to enter it themselves."

Her penchant for providing unnecessary exposition already running with a full head of steam, the woman rose to her feet and ran a hand through her short, unkempt black hair. As she did so, those who were paying close attention could have noticed the flecks of unearthly blue that ran along her cuticles.

"Our weeks of scouting have allowed us to find the most direct route to Adachi. Now, in our eleventh hour, it is now time for us to surge through and end this mystery once and for all."

Chie gave praise to the informant's diligence with a cheerful bob of her head, the abundance of emotion and the white flash of her teeth serving as a sound contrast to Souji's nod. Others were preparing to chime in until a yet unheard voice cleared their throat.

"Okay. I wasn't going to say anything since you seemed like a nice person. . ." began Rise Kujikawa, the former teen idol turned demon hunter employing the same directness that had earned her acclaim in both fields. "But who are you?"

"Um," the raven-haired woman hemmed, a bit of a flush in her otherwise pale cheeks. "I'm. . . Eleanor. Eleanor Black. Bruce Wayne's childhood friend and current girlfriend? The. . . the one who's been helping all of you with this investigation during the past several months?"

Rise tilted her head to one side, her auburn-brown hair and cherubic face traveling right along with the rest of her. "That. . . doesn't sound right," she couldn't help but mumble, the occasionally ditzy but usually bright songstress looking as if she was literally putting the puzzle together in her head. "And why are you wearing Naoto-sama's police uniform?"

Eleanor blanched at this, the blue beret-style cap on her head helping her look like a bizarrely mutant mushroom. "I. . . I don't know what you're talking about!" she quickly exclaimed, the young detective busying herself with organizing Bruce's growing doll collection. "And I'm certainly not here because some wannabe author wanted to thank his little sister for all the inspiration she's provided over the years!"

Even Chie lifted her head away from her comfortable resting spot on Souji's shoulder, the lifelong Inaba native preparing to launch into her own inquiry before the sound of rushed footsteps assaulted her ears.

"Hey, guys! I found Adachi's scent! We've gotta hurry before it fades!"

Both the command and the emotion behind it was enough to prompt everyone to rise to their feet and make for the electronics department and the big screen television that had long served as their gateway to the TV world. All except Rise, that is, given that she pondered over the fact that her dear friends were suddenly following a female chimpanzee with a stylish pink beret, a matching vest, and a long, lush ponytail of blonde hair.

"I. . . should be more confused about this than I am," the demon analyzer realized before she finally gave in and began to move as well.

* * *

_2:58 P.M._

Chie instinctually gave another onceover of the hectic theater of war around her, the young woman's overwhelming inclination for protecting those she cared for momentarily overcoming the desire to keep herself safe. Her brown eyes were forced to dance around and through a number of fearsome Shadows in order to get the job done and a part of her brain was still stretching to grasp how the monstrosities around her could exist in any world, much less have the potential to cross over into the one she called home. According to the conclusions suggested by Eleanor, the monstrosities that were serving as Adachi's last lines of defense were manifestations of the darkest truths housed within the thoughts of the people of Inaba. And, judging from the array that they were presented with upon stepping foot into Magatsu Inaba, Adachi's warped interpretation of the town he tortured, there seemed to be a common theme.

Blood drenched succubae reeking of cheap alcohol sporting sprigs of mistletoe around their bony wrists. Levitating incubi sporting compression marks on their necks and face that were clearly visible to Chie as the beasts attempted to sink their teeth into her arms and legs. Rotund demons with hanging, distended stomachs wielding hatchets and long knives immersed in viscera. Harried looking harpies zipping up and down from the sky swiping at whatever portion of human flesh they could find. The metaphors behind them were as clunky as anything she had come up with in her writing class but she still managed to put the pieces together and she wasn't a big fan of the final product.

_Is this what people are thinking right now? _Chie thought as she watched Eleanor bring down one of the aforementioned winged devils with a shot from her revolver. _My neighbors? My family? I mean, I get that this is supposed to be stuff that they would never dream about saying out loud but. . . this. . ._

She was almost relieved when a fearsome Regid swooped down to try and take her head with its razor-sharp wings. Rolling to duck under the swipe, she waited patiently for the gargoyle-like monster to turn before launching her right foot forward in a hook-like manner so that the toes of her boots would catch the back of the creature's vulnerable heel. Her opponent momentarily startled by the unexpected pain, Chie rose back to her full footing and planted her feet before launching a roundhouse kick that landed solidly against the creature's jaw and sent him down spinning like a top.

Letting the air flow through her lungs as she broke into a sprint, she momentarily caught Souji going toe-to-toe with a handful of Shadows, his skillful work with his katana the only thing keeping him from being overwhelmed. A loud _WHAP! _to her right briefly brought her to notice Bruce Wayne hard at work as well, the brooding teen's face twisted into a snarl as he brought the seat of his chair down hard on the back of a Regid's neck. Deciding not to focus too much time on why anyone with any degree of fighting talents would employ a chair as a weapon, Chie vaulted off the shoulders of a charging succubus before her journeys were suddenly put to stop by a chilling wave so thick that ice began to form in front of her face.

"Whoops! Sorry about that!" whooped Dixie Kong, the slightly apologetic chimpanzee apparently quite giddy that she could spread her own variety of chaos on the eastern side of the battlefield. "Y'know I may not have any real reason to be here but I'm gonna have fun while it lasts! Who wants a shot at the reigning chimpion? I'm in the mood to monkey around! Did you know that my cousin would be going ape about this? Ha ha! Primate puns! Primate puns!"

Chie again resisted the urge to take away from anyone else's attempts to dumb down their lingering fears as she backed up a handful of steps before sliding under the two-feet thick sheet of ice with inches to spare. Rolling on to her side in order to get to her feet quicker, she was greeted by laughter that raised the slight hairs on the back of her neck.

"You know, I still can't quite wrap my head around the fact that the world is on the verge of coming to an end and _this _is all the old world has to defend it!" Adachi boasted, his voice booming over the calamity, the display another example of the power the disgraced criminal now had over the realm of the Shadows. "Let's see. . . we've got a circus monkey, a pop star slut who is trying to figure out if she still wants to be a pop star slut, a couple of cross-dressing frequent failures, a brooding vigilante with sexuality issues, his pathetic whore of a sidekick, and a transfer student who got ditched by his folks for a martini. Oh, whatever shall I dooooooo?"

"You'll eat my right foot when it flies into your face, Adachi!" Chie roared back as she pushed aside two of the demonic infants with a spin kick from the aforementioned leg. Racing a long wall of fire created by Amaterasu, Roy's fiery immortal avatar, the young martial artist continued to race along the violent procession while avoiding the encounters that could have come with it. "And at least we're all still trying to work out who we want to be! We're not going to just run away from people just because they can tell that we've got a lot more work to do!"

"Oh, yeahhhhh, Little Miss Karate Dyke is all about the self-improvement aren't ya?" Adachi asked back from afar, the sneer on the junior detective's lips practically cementing itself into Chie's mind. "Hope you're not forgetting that we're in the world of the Shadows now. This is _my _turf and here I can see all the insipid little thoughts of every sad sack of fat in this one-horse town. That includes yours, sweetie. Every pubescent piece of tomgirly, false guilt pieces of shit that you can dredge up."

Chie caught a flash of black on her left and realized that Souji had leapt to her side, the young swordsman and champion of The Fool sporting a hideous snarl on his usually handsome features. She should have been frightened by the rage that had come from somebody she had thought to be so gentle but the fact that she had earned the love of such a good person, someone who had to dig their own way out of their own trappings to see what life could offer, was a boon to her spirits and a necessary balm for the storm that Adachi was continuing to unleash.

"Why can't Roy realize how much I need him to be my friend? Why can't I be prettier and have perkier tits like Stephanie? Am I going to pass my exams in the spring? Can't Souji see how much I want to be with him for the holidays? I don't want him to go. Boo hoo hoo."

Each question Adachi carelessly picked from Chie's thoughts were delivered in a ludicrously high, sing-song voice that may as well have been nails in a chalkboard. "Blah blah blah blah blah, ya dumb bitch! This is why I didn't even bothering mentioning you, Satonaka! You're nothing but a blip on the radar of life. And even if you do manage to win, even if you've dreamed up some idyllic little scene where the Shadows are overcome and sunshine and posies dominate over everything, the fact of the matter is that your pathetic little life is still going to get torn apart. You know that your little boyfriend is going to leave the moment his folks throw him a bone, everyone you care for will realize how small-time you really are and you'll spend the rest of your life 'defending those you care for' by being a night watchman at _Junes_ keeping punks from skateboarding on the sidewalk. THAT'S your dream turned reality, sweet pea! Just be glad that you've got somebody with the balls to tell it to ya!"

Chie could feel the blood from a deep scratch across her forehead slipping towards the roof of her eyes but she didn't even take the time to use a spare hand to wipe the crimson away. Just as she had taught herself to do, Chie balled up all her frustrations and let it out with a scream and a lash of her foot. Her right ankle screeched in defiance as it messily connected with the throat of one of the portly hellspawn and the back of her throat soon became irritated to the point where she could only let out a raspy cough but still she kept going. Her friends kept fighting through the swarm.

They wouldn't lose. They couldn't lose.

* * *

_3:20 P.M. _

Marred with bleeding cuts and tired minds, the eight unlikely heroes arrived at Adachi's chamber and looked upon their hale and hearty enemy. Bedecked in an unbearably purple dress suit with black dress shoes and an orange and green tie, the exaggerated dimensions of what Adachi apparently considered to be a suitable royal hall made him look as if he towered over each of them.

"Be careful!" hissed Rise, the adviser looking far better off than the others due to her avoidance of the battlefield yet the shadows beneath her eyes told a different tale. "I know it doesn't look like it but there's something really wrong with this whole thing!"

Adachi took in the unkind diagnosis with a bout of high-pitched laughter, the murderer presenting his expected guests with white, gloved hands. "Aw, come on! I just figured that this was a bit of a special occasion," he insisted while rising from his golden throne and placing both feet firmly down on the blood-red carpeting that tapered down the long steps ahead. "I guess I just sort of wanted to strut my stuff for a little! I mean, yeah, it's a little gaudy but you have to admit that omnipotence is looking damn good on me!"

"Ya think so?" asked Dixie Kong, her voice small and slight. "'Cause you still look like an out-of-work Power Ranger to me."

"Keep your talk to yourself, you damn, dirty chimp!"

"No, I think you've already had your turn at the wheel!" Stephanie roared back, the Green Lantern striding forward ahead of the pack. "You killed Cissie-senpai and you terrorized the town and now you want to get rid of the world that rejected you just because you realized that you weren't as special as you always thought yourself to be! You're going to pay for all your crimes and you're going to get started with that right here and now!"

"Ooooooh, look at all the vim and vigor," Adachi said mockingly. "Y'know, maybe nobody ever got around to telling you this in your warped, little childhood but you aren't living in a story book, Steffie. This is the real world where the bad guys sit back and relax while the ones who pretend to be the good little rats keep running on their little wheels until they tired themselves out and die in a broken heap."

"Well, I'm not running away anymore," Stephanie insisted, her continued advances finally prompting Bruce to move forward and prevent her from lurching into a forward rush. "I've found a place where I want to be and I'm going to fight to keep it."

"Oh, and we already know how that's going to end up," interrupted a hidden but familiar voice, the shocking surprise only magnified as a young woman seemed to materialize at Adachi's back. The gsvr of the familiar stranger was mostly hidden from view thanks to a bat-eared cowl but all Stephanie needed was a simple glance at the black-and-eggplant colored battle armor and the golden bat insignia on the woman's chest to recognize who lay underneath. "You'll horn in on somebody else's business, tell a few stupid jokes, maybe make a few people smile and then that somebody better comes back along and you get swept back under the rug with the rest of the unwanted trash."

Now it was Chie rushing forward, the alarm bells ringing off in her head as she slid in front of her friend with her arms stretched wide. "Easy, Steph. You know that's just your Shadow. It's only a part of the person you really are."

"Yeah, but it is her," Adachi replied matter-of-factly, the slow smirk returning to his smarmy presence. "Oh, and sorry for the unexpected surprise there. On the other hand, you _were _about to attack me eight-on-one and, dog gonnit, that just don't seem fair to me."

"I _KNOW _that's my Shadow," Stephanie spat back, the Green Lantern shoving Chie aside. "I know that I was abandoned in the past and I'm afraid that it'll happen again but I'm going to keep fighting for what I have now. I'll always keep fighting."

"And you'll always keep losing," Shadow Stephanie echoed back, the creature presenting a new trick by shifting her attire into a badly frayed Spoiler costume marred with wide cuts and blood stains. "In fact, the only way you're going to win is by turning your anger away from the bad guys that everybody tells you to go hurt and start turning it to the good guys who are stabbing you in the back. You know this!"

"Well, you have to admit that she doesn't always keep her wits about her, sprout," another voice spoke up, this one belonging to a golden-eyed facsimile of Roy Harper. "And, trust me, I know all there is to know about ignoring your own mind."

"Please. Give me a god damned break," replied the genuine former student of Oliver Queen, the gesture only a bit ridiculous given that the sharpshooter was still wearing his fuku. "If this is the best that you can do, Adachi, then just leave your parlor tricks at the front door."

"Oh, he's not the problem you've got to deal with, Twelve-Step," Shadow Roy replied, the inky reproduction patting his creator on the shoulder with his one remaining hand. "And we both know that we've long past run out of breaks. I mean, it's been fun to play the goofy clown who acts like a wigger and drinks a little too much but we both know that it's going to crumble no matter how you act. The day's gonna come when you come home from being a hero and you see what's left of your daughter lying on the floor. Maybe bleeding. Maybe burning. Maybe a little bit of both and you'll lose whatever will that hasn't been taken away by the drugs and the sex and the alcohol and here's where we will be."

The Shadow swept his arm across his scarred chest to draw attention to the array of lined scars. After allowing just enough time he snapped his fingers and instantly transformed into something that looked better, _healthier_, than Roy had been since he was a teenager.

"But don't worry. I mean, I just showed you how much better I can make it with just a snap of my fingers. No more struggling to make the right decisions. You can just forget all the mistakes you made and maybe you won't be so eager to go for that next high. You can just forget everything."

"If I can do it then anybody can do it," grumbled an older man that slowly descended down the long stairwell. Sporting iron-gray hair and a stern brow that made his younger counterpart look like an absolute fool in comparison. "Do you really think you can trust anybody else with the pledge you made? You force yourself to deal with these people, these _creatures _with all the powers and gifts in the world even when you know that none of that will ever match up to the strength of your conviction. You know that and still you'll just hop at the chance to put your city in the hands of a hyperpowered maniac."

The younger Bruce immediately backed away, his dreams of making dolls and passing them down on the verge of shattering, until his back met the front of his oncoming paramour. "Only the worst part of Bruce would believe that he could just keep doing what he's doing without changing how he chooses to live his life, you monster. It's one thing to realize that you keep chasing a dream and another to realize what you can turn your dream into."

"Oh, like you're one to talk, 'Ellie'!" Shadow Eleanor hissed while slithering around the elder Bruce's back, her gold eyes invaded with specks of blue. "I want to be an ordinary girl. No, wait! I want to be a superhero! No, wait! I want to be something! Anything! Anybody that isn't really me!"

"You shut the hell up," the genuine Eleanor growled back, the clever girl still quite aware of the consequences of denying the darker side of her and bulldozing through it regardless. "All you have to do is keep on waiting. I'll be the person I want to be. I'll find a way."

"Um, word to the wise," the golden-eyed Eleanor whispered, her clear voice taking on a quivering candor as she suddenly transformed into an old woman. "This is who you really want to be. And you will! Just keep setting dreams that you know are never going to happen and you'll be just like me! You'll be wretched, alone, and without anyone to truly care for you. I mean, it's like I don't even have to try to show how much of a failure you're going to be."

"That's not true! I have Bruce! I've earned my happiness! I've fought for my life and I'm going to keep it!"

"Oh, there's no reason to worry about me, Ellie," a casual tone answered back. Recognizing the lifting of her heart that occurred every time she heard it, the genuine Eleanor turned back to what she thought to Bruce's Shadow and was greeted by the grinning billionaire looking poised and confident in his $20,000 suit. "You don't think that I'll be able to handle myself? I'm the goddamned Batman," he quipped, the unfussy manner of speech made even more infuriating by the carefree laugh. "Oh, and there's no need to worry about if I'm going to be alone at night," the vision of the love of Eleanor's life added while he quickly became surrounded by a assemblage of gorgeous creations that the detective all instantly recognized.

Selina Kyle. Talia Al-Ghul. Dinah Laurel Lance. Vicki Vale. Vesper Fairchild. Clark Kent.

"Trust me. I'll be better off without you," Eleanor dimly heard through Bruce's laughter, her eyes wide with horror as her lover's handsome features were lost in a mass of flesh that lovingly crushed him underneath their weight, lips and hands searching out for every part of Bruce that wasn't already taken.

There was nothing left for her. There never had been.

Chie steeled herself as she charged forward, the martial artist feeling that she had lost a piece of her heart with every increasingly dismal scene that was available. There was Rise continuing to be driven into a raging mess of tears by the Shadow that mocked her for thinking that she could ever find a balance between the star she wanted to be once again and the normal girl who realized how important it was to let her voice be heard. Then Dixie had collapsed onto her tiny hands and knees, the little chimp dwarfed by some bizarre monkey-beastling with low-rise sweat pants and a tank top with spaghetti straps that did little to hide the larger primate's breasts. She wanted to scream at the disturbing-looking beast as it taunted her friend's irrelevance but it suddenly seemed like there wasn't any time for anyone. And then Souji, her beloved friend and lover, wrapped within his rage as he slashed at his grinning Shadow, the silver-haired spirit allowing the blade to pass harmlessly through him while continuing to mock the black-haired swordsman for never gaining an identity of his own.

She wanted to save them. All of them. She'd have given anything to be able to remind these proud creatures that she had come to love and care for of the lesson that had saved her from her own Shadow. The dark portion was only a sliver of who they were, the festering wound that would only go stronger if its owner continued to deny it instead of deal with it, but there was a more pressing issue waiting to be resolved. She soaked in the "issue's" smirk as she leapt forward with the momentum of her strides, her right leg extending into a leaping kick that Adachi whirled around with only inches to spare.

"Yeah, I figured that I wouldn't need your Shadow to come out and play," Adachi revealed, the messy-haired master of the TV world letting the mocking laughter ring through his tones. He continued to whirl around, over, and under Chie's kicks, the junior detective displaying instincts and reflexes that wouldn't have been a part of him in the world that he was attempting to destroy. "Look at ya. All that talk about doing whatever it took to protect good people and here they are falling all around you like dominoes."

Chie felt the wind pushed from her lungs just before it could sneak into her gut as Adachi connected with a firm palm thrust to the center of her chest. Her body's momentary muddling worked together with the force of the impact and left the martial artist to the floor. Employing her backwards momentum to roll back to her feet, she raised her arms to defend herself from a follow-up attack but soon found that none was to come.

Adachi sneered once again, amused by the overreaction. "Y'know, I'm starting to think that maybe you really are the snake beneath the skin already," the fugitive from man's law pondered, the awareness in his inquisitive stare like nothing Chie had seen from the man in the months he had bumbled about pretending to be a hapless twit. "Now that's just rude. I mean, at least I've got the guts to step up and accept that there was no use being a passenger on the humanity train. Pretending to be somebody you're not is just the lowest thing that anybody could do. . ."

The vociferous screech of Chie's chanting finally subdued whatever philosophy that Adachi wanted to espouse. The manipulator of the surrounding Shadows remained silent and observed as the Chariot tarot card appeared just a meter away from Chie's eyes. Continuing to look on with mild interest as the brown-haired high-school student shattered the spectral image of the card with a high-angled roundhouse kick, his thin lips finally broke into a smile as the casting came to a stop at the towering image of Suzuka Gongen. Regarding the mythical female samurai and the avatar of the interfering, blood-stained slut in front of him with an air of detachment, he finally found something of interest as the black-armored spirit summoned a double-edged staff whose long blades glittered crimson within the darkened surroundings.

"Oh, yeah. I saw this movie too," Adachi said brightly as Chie's Persona surged forward to strike him down. "I guess you just forgot how it ends."

All it took was a snap of his fingers for the Fool card to appear and then shatter before Adachi's eyes. Within an instant a warped image of Izanagi, Souji's original Persona and supernatural host, appeared at the detective's back. Another flicker of a moment and Suzuru Gongen had been sliced in two by the unbreakable katana wielded by the creator god, the psychic backlash that Chie received in return enough to send her to her knees screaming in agony as blood poured from her nose and ears.

"Aaaaaaaand _that _will do it!" Adachi announced, the killer punctuating his emphasis by slamming the heel of his right dress shoe into the left side of Chie's face. He briefly admired the teenager's well-developed legs while those and the rest of her lay face first by the foot of his throne. Of course, it only took a handful of seconds before he astutely recalled the mocking pity the bitch had shown him when he was playing his part before twisting his lips into a snarl. Taking another look around the hushed battlefield, he let his lips twist upward as he noticed his other foes in similar states of unconsciousness, the inky aura around their bodies a strong indication that their Shadows were well on their way to corrupting the last hope that Inaba, that humanity, had left.

"Well, it's just as I said, kiddies," he informed his unhearing audience, the monster relishing another opportunity to display his superiority without the interference of anger or mocking. "The war has been fought, you good guys had your nice little inspirational run and now reality has dropped by. You lose, I win."

Dipping his right hand to his waist, Adachi abandoned his purple jacket in order to have better access to the gun ensconced within his waist holster. Stooping down as he clicked off the safety, he used his left hand to lift Chie up by the back of her head. He briefly admired the blood that marred the teenager's face, tracing a formless pattern along Chie's nose with the barrel of his .45 Magnum before he finally slid the weapon to where it lay right between his victim's eyes.

"I'll admit to being interested in seeing how the rest of the brats turn out. You, however, are absolutely worthless to me_aaah. . ."_

A flicker of Adachi's histrionic anxiety dragged itself over to a more honest stage as he rolled away before the jagged blade managed to cleave his head off his shoulders. Summoning Izanagi out of fearful instinct, the clash of blades rang through his ears even as he regained his wits and finally managed to observe his attacker. Everything about the stranger was unfamiliar ranging from his short, spiked blonde hair to the yellow vest, white dress shirt and black long pants to the playful twinkle in the gentleman's green eyes that persisted despite having the knowledge that he was tangling with a god among warriors.

"Who in the fuck are you?" Adachi spat out, the mastermind of Inaba's chaos still somewhat unnerved by it all.

"Gailardia Galan Gardios. Most definitely _not _at your service," replied the fair-haired swordsman, the carefree lilt bearing such an odd resemblance to Adachi's mockingly happy-go-lucky candor that the detective could feel the hairs on his neck spiking upward.

"Well, what the hell kind of name is that? And how did you get here?"

Momentarily encumbered by the vengeful strength of a millennia-old demon, the man known by some as Guy Cecil needed a moment to skillfully maneuver his wickedly sharp blade in a manner that prompted Izanagi to commit to a double-handed slash of his katana that missed badly and left him with some room to respond. "Well, what kind of name is Tohru Adachi?" Guy shrewdly asked back. "As for why I'm here, let's just say that I'm an unexpected Christmas present."

Odd as it may have seemed on the surface, Adachi had found a reason to smirk. Quickly putting two-and-two together with his diseased but dangerous mind, the detective turned to his left and discovered that an odd glow was rising from Souji's body where there had once been an all-encompassing darkness. "Well, I don't like surprises," he replied while leveling his gun in the direction of the unconscious, black-haired swordsman. "And I don't like uninvited guests."

The bullet that burst from Adachi's Magnum should have had no problems with traveling through the left side of Souji's skull and ripping through his cerebral cortex on the way to causing a certainly fatal degree of hemorrhaging but Gailardia, pouring on the speed that had saved the lives of his friends and loved ones dozens of times over, dove to intercept the shot. The blonde-haired swordsman went down with a groan, the blood gushing from his left shoulder as the struggling blood vessels fought to deal with the intruding lump of metal encased within its inner workings. Never one to let a lightly sleeping dog lie, Adachi made himself feel a little better by putting another bullet into Guy's hip before aiming straight for the swordsman's pain stricken face until he was turned violently around, his gun firing uselessly into the sky.

"Well, what if the arrival was due to godly will?"

Had he the time to properly do so, perhaps Tohru Adachi could have been properly astonished by his powerful attacker, the gentleman's endearing smile charmingly clashing against his perfectly tanned face and flowing brown hair. Perchance he could have admired the brawny physique of the god in his midst, his arms muscular enough to be intimidating but yet smooth enough to give off a charmingly slender vibe, the broadness of his chest accentuated perfectly with a golden shirt that revealed a plentiful but still pleasant supply of his strapping torso. Alas, all those potential opportunities were for naught as Adachi's assailant finished his preparations and walloped his much smaller target with a dramatic-looking uppercut that sent the disgraced investigator soaring through the air. Though one would believe that such a furiously stiff assault would have left the all-too-human Adachi with an impossibly shattered jaw and nose or even torn the head off his shoulders, the results that came only made it look as if a sparsely funded wire team had safely kept the poor fool soaring in a graceful arc before he landed on his throne, beaten and quite unconscious.

"Well, I'm suddenly feeling a little bit more inadequate."

The savior of the world turned to regard the gasping Gailardia with another winsome smile. He confidently strode forward, the unbreakable metal wrist guards around his girthy forearms clinking slightly with each step. "I wouldn't beat yourself up for it too badly," he reasoned while lifting the blonde-haired swordsman to his feet with great care to avoid the injured shoulder and side. "Besides, it seems that somebody else has taken care of that already."

Familiar as he was with receiving a helping hand, Guy returned the gentle chiding with a nervous-sounding laugh while giving his rescuer a looking over. "Well, thanks for the save nonetheless. I mean, I wasn't planning on. . . saving. . . being saved. . . are those pants made out of pineapple skins?"

"No. No, they're leather," the tanned epitome of perfection replied even while casting a dubious glare at his own attire. "Still, I've got to admit that this isn't the first time I've asked the question."

"Well, I guess that's not something to obsess over too much. I mean, this section of the story _is _starting to run a little long," Guy considered, the frequent victim of Anise Tatlin's torments displaying a presence of mind that only a time-starved author could provide. "So I know I got here thanks to Souji over there. So how about you?"

Looking to provide a quick answer, the legendary Hercules prompted Gailardia to turn his attention back to the fallen heroes. Following the eyes of the surprisingly metrosexual demigod, the gynophobic master swordsman soon found himself regarding Eleanor Black as she slowly stumbled to her feet, her blue chapeau seemingly glowing thanks to the bright aura that rose up from the policewoman's body.

"Let's just say that you're not the only one with an admirer, Gailardia," the hero of Thebes proclaimed while slapping his brawny hands together. "Now, what's say we gather these kids up and get them home before we make an unexplained exit?"

* * *

_Inaba – Residence of Ryotaro Dojima – 9:32 P.M. _

"Okay. Can anybody explain what just happened?"

Despite the framing of her perfectly pertinent question, Rise didn't appear to be very active in her quest to pursue the truth. In fact, judging from her body language alone, the young teen slumped as she was on the wooden floor of the living room with the back of her head leaned up against the side of the couch and her eyes shut, it didn't appear that she was interested in finding the answer to much of anything. Still, time and impatience soon wore her down and the former starlet inevitably turned to face Bruce as he was sitting cross-legged in front of the television. The others began to do the same as well until their unanimously elected explainer slowly began to get the hint.

"Whuzzat, hum, um," an exhausted Eleanor Black blurted out, the young investigator formerly slumped against Bruce's shoulder. "Oh, well. . . I suppose that. . . Since Adachi was able to control the Shadows to some extent it only stands to reason that other humans with extended tenures within the TV world would ultimately grow more in tune with what is manifested within it. Given all the time we spent there rescuing the people that Namatame had thrown in while he was being tricked by Adachi, perhaps the Shadows also learned to respond to our own thoughts and collective imagination."

"I really like brooding," Bruce added, the future Dark Knight of Gotham City presently dividing his time between devouring rice balls and planning his future knitting project. "It makes me look really multifaceted when all I really am is an emotionally pampered billionaire with a self-concocted penitence complex." Pausing to ruminate in a manner most broody, he gazed down to the short dining table next to him and examined the variety of marionettes that he had gathered there. "And deep-seated mother issues. . . and obvious angst regarding my tenuous philosophy upon sexuality. . ."

"That's okay, sweetie," Eleanor soothed, the young detective guiltily taking a moment to skim along her boyfriend's bicep before patting Bruce on the shoulder. "As I was saying, just as we gained access to our Personas by overcoming the illusions we cast upon our own thoughts, perhaps we also managed to instinctually learn how to tap into a deeper part of our imagination. Fighting as we were for the sake of humanity, maybe we even tapped into the energy of those that weren't even among us and that allowed us to summon those strangers in our time of need."

"And studly strangers to boot!" Rise piped back in, the teen's flirty tone quickly drawing Eleanor's ire. "I mean, whohoo! Did you _see _the muscles on the big guy, Steph? The blonde would have been pretty cute too if he didn't always jump back like a rabbit every time one of us girls got near him."

"I don't care about any of that!" Stephanie snapped, the weary Green Lantern perhaps still a bit affected by the masculine vibes that resonated in the tattered remains of her men's school uniform. "The important thing is that we stopped Adachi, avenged Cissie-senpai, and saved the world."

"Yeah, but what a weird-ass way to do it!" Roy exclaimed, the marksman apparently an instinctual appreciator of irony judging from the facts that he was still wearing his long skirt and had sat down on the couch without bothering to cross his legs (perhaps thanks should be given to the gods that the former Speedy had chosen to wear underwear). "Come on! We all get our asses kicked but get saved by a couple of fictional creatures we dreamed up in our imagination? What kind of bullshit is that?"

"Well, I think it's awesome!" shouted Dixie, the little chimp bouncing from foot to foot with anticipation. "Look at it this way! Because of all that we're here together for Christmas!"

"Pleaaaaase don't give me any garbage about a Christmas miracle, Dixie!" Stephanie demanded with a groan. The determination was solid and even supported by both Bruce and Roy but it wasn't enough to keep the primate with the pink beret from scrunching her tiny hands into fists as a twinkle passed through her forest-green eyes.

"Think about it! Stephanie is always getting dumped by anyone who she can get her hands on, Roy's made a whole bunch of mistakes that he's gonna have to make up for someday, Bruce is pointlessly depressing, Rise is a spoiled celebrity addict, Ellie is so scared about what's going to happen to her in the future that she's too scared to even look in the past, Chie is all frightened about Souji leaving and what her life will be when things go back to normal and Souji is already bottling up his thoughts because he's going to have to leave another home he cares about and go back out into another part of the world that he doesn't really know!"

"Wow. Thanks for pointing out the most depressing parts of our personalities," Steph said dully. "The same parts of us that were almost enough to let Adachi kill us, mind you!"

"But he didn't!" Dixie pressed on, the impact behind her passion only muted slightly by the fact that the owner of the emotion just happened to be a talking chimpanzee who was somewhat obsessed with the color pink and currently waylaid with the notion that she should get started with chewing on her overlong toenails. "We won because we all worked together to fight for something we believed in doing! We might have been able to do it on our own but the fact that we did it together made it a whole lot easier."

Suddenly running short on epiphanies, Dixie cautiously looked about the room to see if her words were having any affect. Her thin lips first set into a frown, her spirits brightened with every inquisitive glance that she could find. "And look at everything we've gotten because of our hard work! Thanks to Souji, we all found something about ourselves that helped us become better. Eleanor keeps chasing her dreams while finding more and more ways to actually make them work! Stephanie doesn't feel like she's alone anymore, Bruce doesn't constantly shut people out and Roy is trying that much harder to prove that he can be a father _and _a hero."

Catching a contrast from the hopeful smiles that her diatribe had brought into being, Dixie momentarily felt alarm as Souji seemed to wilt under all the second-hand praise that had suddenly been heaped upon him. Remembering her predictably withdrawn comrade, the little chimp made her way to Souji in several short bounds and placed her tiny right hand and Souji's knee.

"Hey! And don't think you didn't get anything out of this, mopey! You could have swallowed the bitter pill, stayed inside that little room of yours for the whole year but you chose not to. Because of that, you've got an uncle and a little sister that would do anything for you because you'd do anything for them. You've got friends who love you and are gonna keep loving you even after you go away."

Souji finally relieved the bizarre little creature of her duties with a reassuring nod. Smiling briefly as Dixie briefly broke into a quick bouncing of her feet in response, he continued to look on as Dixie gingerly clambered onto the short table.

"And me? Well, I may not be as familiar to the kids today as I'd like to be but I've still got a lot of things to be proud about to! I've stayed true to my roots, I've never been a damsel in distress in official Nintendo canon, and I'll always be the first female Mario character to star in her own video game and that all happened because of who I was and who I'll keep on being."

"Wow. Somebody pass the sick bucket," Stephanie blurted, the revulsion on her face a little hidden from view given that she had used her right hand to hide her smile. "Okay, fine! It's settled! Life, with Christmas in apparent particular, can seem like it is full with a whole bunch of weird ass depressing shit but we can always get a helping hand from each other so long as we keep doing what we gotta do. Is that the endearing message?" The youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns waited patiently for Dixie to respond with a solemn nod before adding, "And that little distinction of yours is nothing but a technicality. I mean, who really thinks that Donkey Kong counts as a Mario character? The first female Mario character to star in her own game is Princess Pea_yaaaaah!_"

Chie had no problems with burrowing the right side of her face into Souji's face in order to "protect herself" when Dixie responded by flinging her guitar at Stephanie's head. Usually one who was happy to draw attention to herself, she allowed Rise to cackle like a fiend and Bruce to glower in disappointment and Dixie and Stephanie to screech at one another like harpies and just enjoyed the tingles that rose from her belly when Souji held her a little tighter. She looked up into his stormy, grey eyes, his lips sporting the crooked smile that she had fallen in love with and suddenly she remembered the ticking clocks.

Three months until Souji has to leave Inaba. A week until Souji's little sister will be released after what the doctors had said to be certain death. An hour before she was going to order the others out of the house so she could covertly celebrate Christmas with the man she loved.

"I don't ever want you to go," Chie mumbled, the words reverberating from her lips and seemingly rippling up Souji's spine.

"I promise I'll be back," Souji replied just as softly.

* * *

Kara Zor-el awakened with a snap, the goose-down comforter falling off her as she raised up off the bed. The foggy vestiges of sleep still seeping into her eyes, her brain seemed determined to remember each iota of the dream and she wasn't willing enough to avoid the temptation. Blinking away her fatigue, she startled again as the sound of a plastic controller slapping against the wooden floor below. Feeling a bit guilty as Lloyd's eyes slowly opened, she wisely bit her lip in the manner that she knew he found to be a bit sexy.

"Okay. No more eating Stephanie's Christmas platter and playing Persona 4 before I go to bed."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Well, like many of the Christmas stories that came before it, I don't anticipate a lot of my readers to understand the minutia I'm playing with her. Still, if you were looking for a general explanation then let's just say first that you all should play Persona 4. It is a glorious gaming experience that proves that there are good games out there to be played even if they aren't obscenely advertised by the American gaming industry. Second, just remember that Christmas can be the greatest time of the year for some and the absolute worst for others. However, for all those walking in between, just remember how valuable it is to have some things or some people that make you life as good as it is. If you find someone who looks to be needing one of those things or one of those people then don't be afraid to lend a hand. Our lives will be eternally defined by the legacy we left behind and the writing I've done over the past six years will always be a part of it and it certainly wouldn't have been so if not for the care and support of so many of you. I may not see you this holiday season but, for the handful of those who this is written for, please know that you'll be in my thoughts. As for them and everyone else, have a happy holiday and I'll see you soon!


	16. An Overlord's Tidings

An Overlord's Tidings

The master of the castle looked down upon the damned, pleading fool at his feet and froze her with a domineering sneer. The mighty warrior king let out a haughty snort from his upturned nose as he rose from his opulent throne, thoroughly pleased to once again displaying the power and authority that he could wield upon everyone and everything as far as even his mighty crimson eyes could see. Even the sound of his boot-clad feet striking the black stone floor was enough to rattle his unwanted guest and, oh, how he drew contentment from the slight laughter that escaped his lips that only caused the woman to shiver with fright. It was nearly enough to coerce the mighty king into letting loose an enormous burst of evil laughter but time and consequences had taught him that such rewards deserved greater battlefields than this paltry scrape.

Now, with this image described and churning within the thoughts of this imaginative audience let us bring a greater dose of imagery into this bubbling stew. Try to recognize the reality that it took a moment or two longer for our hero to rise from his seat because his four-foot, three-inch frame was so ludicrously inappropriate for his massive chair that he had to slide on his backside just so that he could stand up from the edge of it. And the sound of his feet striking the floor, imposing as it was to his unfortunate audience, could have easily been considered ridiculous given that his knee-length boots did nothing to hide a pair of legs that were simultaneously reedy and squat. He crossed his overlong arms across his thin and fairly muscled bare torso, the horn-like bangs of blue hair that hung from the roof of his pronounced forehead bobbing with the minute motion. Observe this and please recognize the recklessness of careless laughter because this wee beastling was not at all uncomfortable with dropping enormous rocks upon those that slighted him.

"So let me see if I've got this straight," the diminutive leader began as the brunette-haired woman at his feet continued to cower in fear. "You get sent down here by this collection of so-called regal humans because they want me to make certain that your husband can give you a kid?!"

The cowering woman, a kind, well-meaning creature with elegant features that the king imagined that most humans would find attractive in their mates, attempted to look up with courage and dignity and managed to hold it despite a great deal of quivering and wavering. "I. . . I apologize. I was not aware that I would be asked to do this until after my marriage. I did not realize that the royals would not have. . . connections. . . w-w-w-with monsters."

Of course it was only natural that the king raised his eyebrows at receiving such a dubious distinction, the bushy slivers of cobalt hair just as pointed as the smile of their owner. "Well, this _monster _does have a name, y'know. If you want to get what you were dragged down here for then maybe you should address me properly."

The human female briefly lost her nerve as she turned away, her rich, brown hair falling over her eyes. "My. . . my sincerest apologies, Sir Laharl. . ."

In an instant the massive chamber was swathed within a wave of unholy energy that knocked the human off of her feet. Once heated by the gouts of hellfire and columns of solidified magma that surrounded the castle, the black marble floors of Laharl's chamber became intolerably frigid. A sharp wind rose up from seemingly nowhere that blew back the scarlet scarf that hung around the half-demon's so that the cloth hang like a crimson halo above his head.

"Are you kidding me?! It's OVERLORD! Overlord Laharl, you unbelievable cow!" exclaimed the pint-sized master of the nether realms, his already high-pitched voice twisting towards what could have become an incomprehensible shriek. "How can those little ascot-wearing, tea chugging morons bring down somebody who can't even get _that _right. GET OUT!"

The British woman apparently had no qualms with fleeing the premises, her long legs carrying her out as quickly as her quivering muscles would allow. Laharl briefly observed the scene and once again felt the urge to surrender and bury himself fully within the joy of self-indulgent laughter but this time he was stifled by his sensing of a familiar presence. Recollecting himself with deceptive ease, the lone son of Lord Krichevskoy turned to sullenly greet Etna, his longtime second-in-command. She was clad in her familiar battlefield attire of black hot pants, high boots, and a ragged halter top that not only allowed for the exposure of a great deal of her slender and muscular abdomen but also provided enough space for her midnight-black wings to unfurl fully so that they stretched from the center of her back to just past the edges of her willowy shoulders. Her hair was coordinated and colored with equal unruliness as the streaks and spikes of red and purple locks jutted every which way. Of course, Laharl was well aware that Etna's chaotic outward appearance was merely a masquerade for the shrewd mind of a master tactician with wits that were equally suited for loyalty and betrayal.

That was why Laharl kept her around. It was always good to have somebody about that could keep an Overlord on his toes.

That and the fact that the Prinnies would have doubtlessly run off with her if she did choose to depart. Who would feed him?

"Now why did you just have to go and scare that poor human away?" Etna asked with a huff. "She only married into that wretched royal family anyway."

Laharl let out another snort as he unceremoniously sat back down upon his throne. "Well, after the past few weeks it doesn't take much for a human to get on my bad side anymore. First it was that ritzy little prat who sold his soul so that the team he owned could win a hockey game against some Canadians and then there was that balloon-bodied twit who said she'd give anything to drag some kind of musician to her wedding altar!"

Etna's brows furrowed as she easily put the pieces to the puzzle together. "What? That Kardashian woman again? HAH! As if anybody in her family had any kind of a soul left to sell!"

"I just don't get why we have to resign ourselves to listening to the demands of these idiotic mortals!" Laharl exclaimed while smacking his tiny fist against the stone armrest. "I am The Overlord of Hell!"

"Yes, and you're under the employment of The Demon King just like your father was before you," Etna calmly countered, the sassy demon taking a hint of amusement in her boss's resignation. "Part of your role as Overlord is to listen to the demands of the humans, angels, and demons that are capable of breaching the boundaries of this reality. Still, if you want some good news than our loyal servant Taylor Swift has managed to transfer another 40,000 souls into our service. Those that could be entitled to becoming Prinnies will be here by the next fortnight."

"Well, it's about time that we're getting some more help around here!" Laharl replied with a snarl as the sound of tiny footsteps invaded his chamber. The half-demon set his chin taut as he regarded a half-dozen Prinnies, the penguin-like creatures assigned to serve in purgatory under Laharl's phenomenally critical eye, as they all shuffled into the room with various platters and dishes. "Did you hear that, you pathetic little simpletons?! You better start working harder to keep your spot or I'll send you to Hoggmeister to clean up the demonic dragon dung!"

The barrage of Prinnies, having long grown accustomed to the violent threats of their judge and occasional executioner, continued about their work with nary a nervous quiver of their long beaks. A pair of them moved to sweep away the rubble left behind by Laharl's violent proclamations while three others scurried over to Etna to receive more specific instructions. This left the one that had drawn the short straw to present the Overlord with a leg of mutton and a goblet of blood pudding, the fifth of the Overlord's customary nine daily meals. The centuries-old regent made certain that the damned soul had to stretch his tiny legs to the utmost before snatching both items with either hand with such speed that the startled minion was left to fall to the floor with his tiny fins and flippers flailing the whole way down.

"If'sh a goot thing Ferrufuf faught these bwits how to coof!" Laharl confessed through a mouthful of food stuffs while watching his eternal victim waddle back to his feet. He noted the lack of alarm and lingering fear the creature was unconsciously displaying, swallowed his tasted portion and wiped a spot of pudding off his dimpled right cheek. "Waaaaaaaait a minute. Something's wrong here," he noted dangerously, his eyes quickly darting back and forth from one group of Prinnies to another. "You all look. . ." It honestly took some time for Laharl to find a detestable enough word to describe what had aroused his suspicions. "Happy! You look happy! WHY ARE YOU HAPPY?!"

Etna tried and failed to rein in the urge to roll her eyes as Laharl's question was quickly answered by a cheerful song forcing its way into the gloomy chamber. Although the dank halls that Laharl had painstakingly redesigned to sap the strength of cheerful souls seemed to take great effort in subduing the sudden infusion of good spirits they appeared to fail just as fervently as any attempt that could be made to keep the happy songstress from flitting her way inside. And flitting was the operative word as the deceptively aged creature kept herself aloft with tiny wings of the purest crimson pinions. Standing several inches taller than the fuming Overlord, her tiny hands and slight shoulders were encumbered with a variety of cleaning supplies ranging from a broom in her right hand, a feather duster in her left, and a collection of clean and dirty rags piled atop her otherwise pristine white robes. She somehow managed to keep anything from falling out of place while carefully collecting the dust that had collected along the stone rafters in the month that had passed since their last cleaning. Then, coming upon a clever idea, she tossed the feather duster behind her back so that she could ensnare it with the forked tail that ran from the base of her waist to the edges of her knobby knees. Her laughter was pure joyousness as she moved to finish off the rafters before throwing herself towards cleaning the windows, a new tune soon rising to her lips.

"I'll be home for Christmas. Just you wait and seeeeeee," the song was delivered with accurate phrasing and tempo but the female's sickeningly sweet vocal delivery prompted Laharl to dig his fingers into the supports of his throne that the black marble splintered like wet kindling. "There'll be snow. . . and mistletoe! And PRESENTS 'neath the treeeee!"

"FLONNNNNNNNNE!" Laharl's roar was so vociferous that a sliver of his phenomenal supply of supernatural energy escaped from his control and prompted the throne room to shake with such force that each and every Prinny was sent tumbling over. "What do you think you're doing?!"

Remaining as oblivious as ever to the seething hatred of the angry little demon below her, the fair-haired fallen angel greeted Laharl with a cheery smile. "Oh, hello, Laharl!" Flonne said in greeting with her customary high-pitched squeak. "Don't mind me. I was just helping the Prinnies with their daily labors. They just work so hard every day that I thought that I should help them out."

Desperate for some form of sanity, Laharl swiftly turned away from the endearing presence above him. Even he wouldn't deny that there was a hint of pleading in his eyes as he looked to Etna with a silent order to resolve whatever was happening but the impish smirk on the lips of his treacherous second-in-command quickly told him that he was on his own. "The Prinnies have been sent here to serve out their purgatorial sentences before they are to be brought to Heaven or Hell! They're _supposed _to work."

"But it's Christmas Eve, Laharl!" Flonne imploringly replied, her cherubic face marred with a slight whisper of consternation. "The time where we take a moment to forgot about our labors and our troubles and our worries and take comfort in the love that we all can share."

Laharl blew out a frustrated breath that wafted upward and batted back the horn-like strand on the left side of his head. "What did I tell you about mentioning lo. . . Wait a minute. It's Christmas?"

"What? Did the sharp influx of bartered souls not give it away?" asked Etna, her slight hands planted firmly on her hips. "It'll always amaze me how humans are willing to give up everything they are just so they can have the latest shiny toy. Aside from that I would have thought that all the decorations would have given it all away."

_That _prompted Laharl to leap to his feet. "Decorations?!" he asked before departing from the chamber in a blur of motion. Etna, to her credit, remained completely calm and even checked the beds of her fingernails for anything out of place during the seconds between Laharl's exit and subsequent return. Upon that moment it was all she could do to keep herself from exploding from the force of her laughter as she saw that her old friend was covered in a wide arrangement of holiday decorations. A wreath of garland was trapped within his scarf, a woolen stocking was around his right foot, a string of still flickering lights was ensnarled around his bare abdomen and a portion of a tiny Christmas tree, perhaps an ancestor of Ferny the Magical Christmas Tree who met its untimely end nearly three years ago, was lodged in his hair. It was a testament to the self-preservation skills of the Prinnies that none of them burst into laughter along with Etna as Laharl let out a high-pitched shriek before flinging the apparently offensive holiday items to the ground and smashing the items to bits with snarls and stomps.

"What were you thinking, Flonne! This is House Krichevskoy**, **the most infamous fortress within a dozen hell dimensions! We do not have DECORATIONS!"

"Well, maybe you could have put a stop to it if you hadn't decided to take that two-month nap," Etna replied matter-of-factly while idling toward the ruins and fetching a branch of the garland she had once placed above Laharl's bedchamber. She easily weathered Laharl's furious stare if only to allow Flonne to flutter down to the Overlord's side without his notice.

"I'm sorry, Laharl. I only thought that you would be open to the idea after you worked so hard to realize just how powerful love and companionship could be. So that way, when you woke up, you could be really happy!"

Laharl instinctively cinched at Flonne's reminder of his often perilous and always ridiculous journey that allowed Flonne to become a permanent fixture of his unholy home. Once an angel-in-trainee, Flonne had originally been sent to his own portion of hell to serve as his father's assassin but that woefully planned assignment was only a façade crafted by Flonne's boss to bring the both of them together. The whole thing began in earnest when the little blonde came up with the hare-brained scheme to show that a demon like himself could embrace and cherish the power of love, an impossibly hare-brained notion that doubtlessly empowered the fair-haired dodo towards completing this ridiculous stunt in which he had become an aggrieved victim.

Months would pass, demonic invasions would rise and fall and, yes, Flonne did manage to convince him that there were creatures like herself and Etna and his human mother that truly cared for him but that hardly meant anything for a formidable Overlord such as he! And, yes, he may have helped Flonne storm the very gates of Heaven itself to aid her in thwarting a seraphic revolution. He also _might _have shed a tear or two when he mistakenly believed that the former angel had lost her life in the climactic final battle but that didn't mean that he cared for her! And he most certainly wouldn't allow such ludicrous displays of good tidings and joy to remain within his mighty bastion!

"All right, I'll take the decorations down before the end of the day," Flonne declared, her tone definitive enough to startle the conviction-riddled greater demon out of his determination. "But, before I do, I wanted to show you that you're not the only demon who has come to know the power of love, Laharl! He even came to befriend humans just like you did with Captain Gordon and Miss Jennifer."

"Oh, goodie," Laharl gloomily replied while slumping back down on his seat and brushing away some strands of garland that remained on his voluminous wraparound. Finding himself somewhat appeased that Flonne was willing to consign herself to sanity, he made no efforts to bemoan or stop the fair-haired irritant as she hefted a large, orb-laden pedestal from the southwestern corner of the chamber and carefully placed it in front of his throne. The black sphere was designed to provide images of critical events within realities that Laharl was responsible for and Flonne quickly demonstrated that she could employ the eldritch device with a practiced ease. "Please tell me that you haven't discovered some kind of offspring of my human-happy father!"

"No, nothing like that!" Flonne exclaimed while concentrating to make certain that the device would take her to where she wanted to be. "This half-demon was actually born a human and had a demon planted within him. He was transformed into a monster who was twisted and manipulated to serve powerful humans but he was saved by the power of love!"

"Yaaaay," Etna and Laharl said with matching flatness.

* * *

"Oh, come on, Wall Eye! I'm telling you that they'll be perfectly safe!"

Wally West, frowning at the mention of his least admired nickname, attempted to look the part of an authoritarian father while being marred by a ridiculously fluffy and green Christmas sweater. It was a gift from Jay Garrick and his wife and the Flash of Earth-2 was now completely convinced that the Flash of Earth-1 had sent it to stat off some monstrous cosmic joke. "Stephanie Brown, are you honestly expecting me to believe that I can trust you with the safety of my children while they're on something that moves and will be piloted by _you_?"

Stephanie, the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns, looked as cross as she was wont to do when she didn't get her way during the holiday season. Her troubled childhood had bought the rambunctious 21-year-old some leeway as it came to the last handful of eventful Christmases at Wayne Manor but that forgiveness had long begun to melt away just as the snow would slip away from the lavish grounds in two days time.

"It's a sled! Normal children ride on sleds in the snow during the winter!" Stephanie pointed out. It was a logical point but the addendum that the children in question were barely past their fourth birthday was shockingly avoided. "Besides if anything hairy really does happen then Grodd will show up to protect them!"

The Fastest Man Alive bristled at the mention of his former nemesis and the current ordained guardian of his children. "Yes, because what I want Jai and Iris to think of when they think of Christmas is being put in mortal danger before being rescued by an 850-pound gorilla rising up from the depths of Hell!"

"Holy Hannah, will the both of you shut up for a second!" complained a nearby grouchy voice seated on a couch in the dayroom that Stephanie and Wally had just invaded. The complainer was one Oliver Queen, a man more commonly known to the world as the vigilante Green Arrow, who was obviously quite irked by whatever was being presented by the person talking to him through his cellular telephone. "Mia, I'm telling you that I would love to be in Star City for Christmas! It's just that we're looking at a potential planet-wide invasion coming to us in about a week and there are 1,001 different things to take care of. I'll get back home as soon as I can!"

This was the scene, a venue decidedly lacking in good tidings and joy, where Lloyd Thomas observed his surroundings from the distant vantage point of his favorite reading chair in the southwestern corner of the room. To aid the uninitiated, he was the half-demon that Flonne was so insistent on presenting but it was rather clear to even the most optimistic of observers that he hardly seemed to draw comfort from the humans he had come to care for. A victim of abandonment, torture, manipulation, deceit, and love, the boy turned half-demon was perhaps tailor made to be the type of creature that cherished the warmth of company but yet be completely ignorant as it came to ensuring it. Of course, Christmas has long been a time for others to trudge that extra mile for the sake of the sad and downtrodden and Lloyd soon found himself buoyed by one who would willingly make that sacrifice.

"Master Thomas, I currently find myself terribly encumbered with Christmas preparations. Perhaps you would be so kind as to assist with the candied yams?"

Lloyd took in the well-polished words with a gasp of shyness before letting out a relieved breath and proceeding to rise to his feet and follow Alfred Pennyworth towards the kitchen. The half-demon hardly required his telepathic gifts to recognize that the experienced butler and culinary expert didn't need any help preparing the traditional Christmas Eve dinner. "Sorry, old man," he softly replied upon stepping foot into the bustling food preparation area. "I suppose I've been a bit out of it the past few hours or so."

"No, you were still fervently wishing that this home would be a bit quieter for the holidays," Alfred countered, his erudite British brogue cutting through Lloyd's lackluster excuse just as easily as the stainless steel ladle sliced through the air on the way to The Black Dog's left hand. "Now stir the sauce so that the butter melts through evenly."

The command could have been considered to be a phenomenally inappropriate gesture but Alfred possessed more than enough charm to infuse a bit of kindness amongst the coarse verbiage to the point where the younger Brit responded with a quick chuckle before turning to his task with his usual determination. "I don't know. You know I'm no stickler for the holidays," Lloyd began while slicing into the sugar and syrup laden sweet potatoes with all the grace that he displayed with a sword. "I mean, ever since I've found out that I'm living on borrowed time I just get these occasional sparks of just. . . wanting to. . . enjoy life. I mean, it's one thing to fight the good fight but another to take heart in the spots of peace in between, yeah?"

"Well, it is only natural that such a frenzied lifestyle would only invite a desire to have occasional moments of serenity. That being said, perhaps your efforts would garner more success if you sought a more active approach. Perchance with the aid of a kindred spirit."

Lloyd didn't need the sound of approaching footsteps to inform him that someone was encroaching upon their thoughtful moment. A surge of hope bubbled through his thoughts as he turned to greet his beloved Kara, the woman who had provided more peace and happiness than he could have ever hoped for. Those memories would turn to serve as a necessary balm when the half-demon caught full sight of his lover and the hardened anger that lined her usually tender features.

"Or perhaps not," Alfred quickly noted before wisely returning his attention towards the glazed ham that was already overdue for its appointment within the nearby oven. This left Lloyd to weather the simmering storm on the horizon as Kara let out what was supposed to be a cleansing breath before speaking her words through gritted teeth.

"Bruce has been pestering me about training exercises nonstop, Helena is drunk on the egg nog, Stephanie and Wally won't leave the house, Ollie won't go to _his _house and Lian and Roy set off a sticky bomb in our bathroom as one of their stupid Christmas pranks so now everything in our bedroom smells like potpourri and epoxy! Do. . . something. . . to stop this!"

* * *

"Well, I can definitely see why you think I might identify with this guy," said Laharl after successfully completing an appropriately sinister chuckle. "He's surrounded by idiots who make a lot of noise, pestered by humans who don't even bother to deal with their own problems and now he's being harassed by a woman who can't even see that he wants to be left alone." The Overlord was momentarily convinced that it was enough to leave it at that until he took another look back at the running image. "I do like this Pennyworth guy though. Any chance that this guy will become a Prinny?"

"Naw, not too much soulful confliction for that guy," Etna replied with a hint of remorse (she always appreciated a sound helping hand). "Wait a second though. This reality isn't a part of our jurisdiction, Flonne. How were you able to get access to it?"

Her brow wrinkled and her lips turned into a distinct frown, Flonne could only seem to save a fraction of her attention for her demonic friends. "These were the creatures that defended The Demon King during Neron and Zalbarda's assault on Hashmalamum."

"Oh yeaaaaaah. I thought I recognized some of those faces from the newsletter," Laharl replied before letting out another discontented harrumph. "So what's the skinny on this pathetic creature anyway?"

"Name's Lloyd Thomas. Apparently some people like to call him The Black Dog," Etna began, her voice carrying all the interest and passion of a secretary reading the minutes back. "His father ran off, mother killed herself, and he got experimented on as a kid so that he could control the power of a greater demon. Apparently he's some big time champion in that reality but not a lot of people _in _that reality even know the guy."

"Well, if he isn't even going to try and take over the world then he isn't that much of a demon, is he?" Laharl said with a snort. "Still, the whole thing about this greater demon sounds a little interesting. This human probably only has a couple of years before his power completely burns him out. Ya think maybe I can force the demon into servitude after his human bites it?"

"NOOOOOOOO!" came Flonne's anguished wail, the volume and tone of it startling the two others and even some of the Prinnies that remained in the room. "Mister Lloyd and his friends don't deserve to be feeling like this after doing so many good things! They've worked so hard to make sure that other people can have peace, joy, and happiness that they deserve it in return! Especially on Christmas!"

"You mean there's more than just the one thing?" Etna asked, her interests now genuinely piqued. "But if Dabura was only giving everyone access to these guys just recently then how would you know about them?"

Flonne briefly turned to face Etna and gave her friend a fretful smile before returning her attentions to the scene at Wayne Manor. "Master Lamington would let me watch the humans after I completed my first 800 years of angel training. Mister Lloyd and his friends were my favorite humans ever!"

"Wow, you sound a little bit star struck, girl," Etna couldn't help but enthuse with an honest smile. The red-and-purple haired demon would be the first to admit that Flonne had her irritating moments but she had always found something endearing within her friend's unflinching enthusiasm. "So did you ever pop on down from the gates of Heaven and say hello? Maybe speak to them in their dreams or have Jesus's face appear in one of their croissants are something?"

"Well. . . I didn't want to be rude and just show up unannounced," Flonne began, the first hints of hesitance finally showing up. "I just thought it would have been nice to admire them from a long way away!"

Etna twisted her lips while mulling over the potential implications. "Sooooooo you were entertaining yourself by watching these creatures do whatever it is they do without them ever knowing about it? Without even saying thanks? That's. . . not. . . really angelic."

"Well, I'm not going to stand by this time!" Flonne declared, a familiar fire churning through her blood-red eyes that usually signified that she was about to do something either extraordinarily selfless or phenomenally foolish (and sometimes both). "I'm going to travel to Wayne Manor and remind The Misfits of the strength they find in each other, the love that binds them together and allows them to do the impossible."

"Well, count me out," Laharl quickly broke in with a smarmy smirk. "I'm not about to avoid the chance for some peace and quiet around her while you're gone. And besides! Somebody has to be responsible about finalizing all these soul contracts."

"I'll go," Etna said casually, her calm statement instantly invoking Flonne's joy and Laharl's anger. "Don't get me wrong, I love the smell of fire and brimstone but it might be a little cleansing to spend some time in a place that isn't littered with tortured souls."

"WHAT?! You can't leave!" Laharl exclaimed while angrily observing Flonne giving his second-in-command and overenthusiastic embrace. "If you leave then who is going to do all the work?"

"Oh, just stand in front of the mirror long enough and I'm sure you'll find somebody," Etna fired back with her familiar sneer even as Flonne was literally dragging her out of the chamber. "Come on, short stuff! You keep calling yourself The Overlord. Go. . . lord over somebody."

Laharl kicked the front of his throne with the heel of his right boot before leaping back to his feet. Understandably angered that his two closest associates had left him high and dry, the half-demon quickly resorted to his natural defense mechanism of searching for poor souls to punish in order to relieve his frustration. And that, of course, prompted the surrounding Prinnies to scamper away as quickly as their tiny feet could carry them but their desperate attempt to escape was brought to a halt as Laharl subconsciously summoned a shockwave that sent the half-dozen lingering souls stumbling back to the floor once again.

"Now hear this! You Prinnies will review and sign off on the contracts for each and every one of these new souls that Taylor Swift has brought into my possession. If you fail to complete the task by the rising of the second sun then an extra 25 years will be added to your sentence. Fail to properly forge my signature on these forms and you will go the next 100 years without food! Understand?"

There was a great deal of dismay, despair and even some mournful declarations of "Doooooood!" but the mighty king of this castle gave no mind to the misery of his subjects. Realizing that no plausible party was around to stop him and feeling that he had earned his reward, Laharl threw his head back as far as his scrawny neck could bend it and let out a laugh of considerable evilness.

"AAAAAAAA-HAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!"

* * *

The time it had taken for Etna and Flonne to prepare for their trip to Wayne Manor had been enough to allow for night to fall upon the majestic environs. And with the lingering light of the third-quarter moon there seemed to be some semblance of serenity amongst those that had come to call the mansion their home. Of course, it takes far less time and energy to throw a veil in front of a crack in a social foundation than to repair it in full and the calculated silence of those that were clustered around the living room television dredged up the possibility that not all was truly well. Further evidence of this was provided as Roy and Wally let out some distempered grunts while Stephanie let out a whoop of delight before flinging her wireless game controller into the air.

"Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah! I fight for my friends, bitches!" the Gotham-based Robin crowed while breaking into a victory dance, the fair-haired champion of will ironically not paying any attention to the ire being thrown her way by her actual comrades. "Hey, guys! Did you guys just miss the superhero class where we were taught to stay away from somebody with a giant sword?"

"God damn Ike and fuck that three-hit combo and screw this stupid game!" Roy shouted back while slamming his own controller against the leather coach he had rested his back against. Momentarily deprived of his daughter and partner-in-crime, the expert marksman known professionally as Arsenal quickly snatched up the beer he had perched on a nearby coaster and drew back a quick sip. "Why are we even playing _Smash Brothers Brawl _anyway? The game is, like, five years old and it's made for 10-year-olds!"

"How appropriate since you always act like a kindergartener when you lose!" Stephanie gaily countered before subjecting the red-haired sharpshooter with a loud and wet raspberry.

"Well, then let's take some time to see you whine and cry when I pop in _Call of Duty_!" You know, if you actually have the stones to play a game that is actually made for adults."

"Oh, yeah! That there's a masterpiece. Getting into some digital clusterfuck with a whole bunch of lazy frat kids and bullied teenagers running around pretending to be badass soldiers. Ahhhh! I've got blood all over my eyes! Now I need to walk around for a couple of seconds so I can go back to normal. How is that supposed to be realistic warfare?!"

"Um, guys. . ."

"You know what the real problem is?" asked Wally West, his hands still gripping the controller after another victory denied. "Neither one of you want to play a game that you think you might lose!" The squawking denials were already coming in full force but The Flash had spent some time building up this head of steam and refused to be deterred. "So we just end up playing the same damn games over and over again instead of playing anything new!"

"There's. . . something happening over here."

"Wellllll, maybe if you ever actually _won _in a video game then we might hear your argument!" Stephanie's tactless but true retort was immediately coupled with Roy shouting back to plead his case and thus the both of them were rendered mute to the sound of bare but powerful feet stomping into the day room.

"Bloody, buggerin' hell."

"Are you arguing _again_?!" Kara spat back, the force of her anger eventually coaxing the three quarrelers to bring their attention to her. "Even after I sent the kids with Dick and Naomi?! Good Rao, I am _sick _of listening to all of you yelling about nothing!"

"_OI!" _ The coupled vocal and telekinetic summons was enough to finally garner Lloyd some attention from his spot in the corner of the living room. There was an open book and an empty bowl that had once been full of sweet potatoes on the nearby end table but The Misfits' second-in-command quickly brought the attention of his friends toward the pair of unexpected presences that were patiently standing to his right. Upon gathering the attention of more of her favorite humans, Flonne could barely restrain her elation and presented the crowd with the brightest and most endearing smile that one could ever hope to see.

"Oh, holy, hoppin' shit crystals! PLEASE don't tell me that we're about to be forced into another stupid Christmas adventure!" Stephanie bemoaned while slumping her forehead against her right palm until her blonde bangs fell in front of her eyes. "First that Christmas demon and then the weird Metal Men and then the killer rabbit?! When is enough enough?!"

Quite used to such vocal displays of universal pessimism, Flonne weathered the unexpected bump in the road with a quick breath and pushed herself forward with a quick curtsy. "Pleased to meet you all. I am Flonne, a former angel tutored by Master Lamington to serve as a link between humanity, demons, and holy creatures."

"Etna. I'm a demon. S'up." The red-and-purple haired demon punctuated the last bit of her greeting by turning to Lloyd and bobbing her head upward to which she received a reciprocal response.

"We are here on behalf of all the good souls that you have helped protect during your years of noble service," Flonne went on, her words carrying so much warmth and generosity that Etna momentarily thought that she was going to be ill. "I realize that all of you are going through a great deal of stress because of the impending invasion but please don't take your frustrations out on each other. Remember that all of you came together searching for a haven you could call home and you found that by working together and trusting in one another. So now, in this time where we take heart in the best parts of what make us who we are, our yearnings to give and receive the bounties of not just those we love but also of people we may never know, I ask you to please just stop and think about what you all mean to each other."

Perhaps it was only natural that the moments to follow were dominated by a thoughtful silence. Unfettered by any dose of caring of what may happen next, Etna turned to face Lloyd once again and examined the desperate glint of hope in the half-demon's eyes. It was the same expression that Laharl held in his haunted eyes when he thought that Flonne hadn't been taken away from him and the usually cold-hearted demon found herself once again astonished by how her friend could bring out the best in everyone.

Then she saw a familiar light rise from Flonne's hands and Etna immediately began to panic.

"Maybe words just aren't enough," Flonne recognized as the force of her magic set her blonde hair to sweep high above her petite forehead. "I'll use my power to show you all the things you've shared together. All the wonders and all the good times. You all deserve this! Maybe more than anyone I know!"

"Woah. Wait a second, Flonne!" Etna shouted, the corner of her left eye picking up the sight of Lloyd rising from his chair and striding forward until he was standing next to her. "You know how wonky your magic can get outside of Hell! Are you really sure about this?"

"PRETTY PRETTY PRITTANICA!"

Flonne's uttering of the chant she most often employed when invoking her supernatural gifts was almost instantly followed with a blinding flash of light.

Then the 150-foot demon showed up in the middle of the living room.

Then Flonne screamed.

Then, for the fourteenth time that day, Lloyd wished that he had just gone to see his foster mother for the holidays.

* * *

Laharl awakened from his slumber to the sound of a barb-covered mace slamming into his steel-hard skull. More disturbed by the clanging noise than by whatever pain could have been induced from the slight chunks of his epidermis being pulled from the rest of his body, the centuries old Overlord was ready to cave in the skull of the Prinny responsible until he spotted the red fez. That gaudy hat, an article of clothing that Flonne had insisted on buying for Verrier after the loyal Prinny had survived the trials of Vulcanus, was enough to momentarily settle Laharl's understandable thirst for violence.

"Hey, dood," Verrier said in greeting, his tone calmer and deeper than that of the panicking Prinnies around him. "It looks like Miss Etna and Miss Flonne may have gotten themselves in trouble."

Taking a brief moment to examine the chaos around him, Laharl let out a grumble before leaping off of his throne once again. "This better be good, Verrier," the Overlord said while wiping away the sleep from his eyes. "Only getting a six-hour nap tends to lead to a couple of Prinnies getting their skeletons ripped out of their bodies."

Unfazed by the grisly but familiar threat, Verrier gently placed his blood-soaked weapon by the throne. "Well, I did finalize all the contracts," he began. "Still, I think you might get a good idea of what's going on by looking at that screen, dood."

Turning to face the screen, the expression on Laharl's face transformed quickly from annoyance to shock and then back to annoyance at the sight of the hulking hell beast tearing apart Wayne Manor in his attempts to rend Flonne's little human friends limb from limb. "What the hell? How did Baal get loose? I made certain that he was sealed within his prison after slaying him with my own two hands!"

"OH NOOOOOO!" replied a familiar wail as Etna and Flonne made their way back into the throne room. While the former demon lady continued to keep her calm attitude the latter was frantically dashing her way to the screen to examine whatever she could. "Etna! Why did you drag us away? We need to help them!"

"I think we've helped them enough!" Etna shouted back, her nerves momentarily getting the better of her. And not without reason, mind you. Of all the greater demons that had challenged Laharl for control of their own little slice of hell it had been Baal that had easily been the greatest threat to the throne. An ancient evil that had struck fear even in the hearts of demons of the purest blood, he had been imprisoned for countless millennia simply because no creature was willing to risk their existences by making any effort to do away with him. "Laharl, Flonne tried to become some kind of magic trick and Baal apparently grabbed a hold of it and used it to pull himself free from his prison. If we don't move quickly he's going to tear apart that version of Earth."

Laharl, faced with the potential calamity resulting in billion of deaths, let out a quiet chuckle. "So let him! After all, it's not like that part of the overworld is my responsibility anyway."

"What are you saying?" Flonne cried out in disbelief, her shock at Laharl's selfishness enough to push her attention away from the onscreen violence. "This is my responsibility, Laharl! If you won't go and help fight then I'll go by myself!"

"You're not going anywhere either!" Laharl snapped back while crossing his rail-thin arms across his chest. "I didn't say anything about _not _fighting. What we're going to do is sit back, summon all our comrades, and then we'll go and take on Baal with all guns blazing and defeat him just like last time."

Etna clinched her teeth and sucked in a breath even as Flonne was still working out the implications. "Well. . . I can't deny that it's a sound strategy. That being said, by the time we can get Gordon's group back from wherever they are this version of Earth will probably be nothing but a cinder."

"Well, it _is _Christmas," Laharl pointed out. He bent his scrawny but powerful legs in an instant and leapt high into the air, his phenomenally agility allowing for plenty of dramatic flips and twirls before concluding with a perfect landing on the roof of his massive throne. "They had better do it, and decrease the surplus population."

"Wow," Etna said dully, the spear-wielding demon briefly turning her attentions back to a stunned and silent Flonne. "That is just. . . phenomenally evil."

"Indeed!" Laharl proclaimed while placing his hands back on his hips. "How appropriate for a demon who will surpass even The Demon King himself by defeating Baal on the battlefield for the second time! AAAAAAA-HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!"

* * *

Worn out emotionally and physically, Lloyd did not even bother to leap free of the demon's plummet and held tight to the hilt of the _Mugalshir _while the rest of the gleaming silver blade remained embedded within the skull of his victim. He waited several seconds to see if the enormous monstrosity would stir and, finding no sign of life, yanked the mystic weapon free and twirled it about to rid the sword of much of the black blood that stained it. His instincts as a leader set in soon after and he swept his sights across the surrounding ruins to confirm that his nearest and dearest were still drawing breath and let out a gasp of relief upon discovering that all was relatively well even after the 45 minutes of intense warfare.

"Well, great! Now the manor is trashed. Again!" Stephanie dully reported in. Much like Lloyd, the Green Lantern's clothing was ripped and torn and stained with demon and human blood alike but it was safe to say that none of her many wounds would debilitate her for long. "Well, I guess that saves Wall Eye here from getting his ass kicked again. Oh! And now he won't have to worry about the evil snow bank that apparently wants to eat his children."

"You can't even stop looking for trouble for one second!" Wally fired back, his familiar red-and-yellow speed suit just as messy and threadbare as the attire of his comrade. "Do you have any idea how long it's going to take to rebuild and restock the kids room?"

"I'd say about as long as it takes for me to rack up a kill streak just by hunting down Stephanie."

"Bite me, Harper!"

"Nobody's biting anybody! Stop arguing!"

"Stop yelling at us to stop yelling at each other, Kara!"

Lloyd Thomas was proud that many of those he cared for considered him to be a reliable leader. That time had given him the wisdom and wherewithal to recognize that he could have said something to save the day but now he. . . just didn't have the patience for it. He resorted to his basest desire for peace and solitude and walked away with a series of brisk strides, the rubble and crumbling columns and walls making for a ridiculously simple exodus. The dark chill of the winter moonlight was a dismal blessing that The Black Dog accepted with a heavy breath. So weighted, in fact, that it had given a presence whose absence was doubtlessly noticeable in the eyes of some the time to get within speaking range.

"I wanted to tell you that you managed to keep the battle contained enough to leave the lower levels of the mansion largely undamaged."

The Brit responded with a snort that was a hint more haughty than he would have liked. "Bloody figures that your top priority would be the gadgets and gizmos, Wayne."

Bruce Wayne, the master of the ruined manor, fired back with decided neutrality. "Get out of here for a while, Lloyd. I'll handle the load for a little while."

Lloyd couldn't bother to hide his gratefulness. "Y'know, I wouldn't have thought you to be the one to rush out to offer the warm sympathy, boss."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, Kara and Stephanie nearly broke both my arms when I reached out to stop them from following after you." Having acquired a more pronounced reputation for coming through in the clutch when it came to providing kind words for his adopted sons, his slow steps seemed to offer a delay for him to pick his words more properly. "Buildings fall apart but they can be rebuilt, Lloyd. Bad decisions can be made and argued away but there's always a chance to say the next word. What you've brought into our lives. . . all the. . . effort you've put in to try and make this a home. . ."

"It's not my home, Bruce," Lloyd broke in, his voice a bit strained. "It's not my money, it's not my manor, it's not even my power. And, in a few years time, I won't even have that to call mine."

"Didn't I just tell you that I put my shoulders in jeapordy by keeping two beautiful women from running off after you?" asked Bruce, his candor momentarily carrying some slivers of the billionaire fop that prompted Lloyd into rolling his eyes. "You gave Stephanie somebody she could talk to whether she had the mask on or not. Kara got somebody who could give her a shot at normalcy. Roy received somebody to watch his back. Wallace found someone he could run alongside. None of them would still be looking for something really special if not for you."

The Black Dog let out a ragged laugh. He didn't mean to have a tear in his eye but there it was. "What about you, Wayne? What present did I manage to put under your tree?"

Bruce's coy smile offered a bit of the answer. "Mister Thomas, you gave me a family to help put the pieces back together back again after everything falls apart. Now, if you wouldn't mind, please give Dick some hell for not bothering to come home for the holidays."

"Will do, my captain."

* * *

"GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Laharl's scream managed to muffle out much of the noise from his rapid footsteps as he worked up the speed to deliver a running punt kick to the poor, unfortunate Prinny that had been picked to be punished. The mighty lash of his foot sent the penguin-like minion soaring up and away from the castle like a cruise missile but even the shattering of the stone wall wasn't enough to blunt the Overlord's strangled scream.

"HOW DARE THAT OGRE-HUMPING BASTARD! How could the once almighty Baal lose to a bunch of fragile humans? Only _I _had the right to avenge the death of my father!"

"You _did _avenge the death of your father! Baal just came back to life."

Laharl clenched his fists so tightly that black blood oozed onto his fingernails. "Well, at least I can take some small comfort in the truth that I eliminated Baal in an honorable battle. One-on-one and toe-to-toe!"

"You had all of us backing you up the whole time. Are you even listening to me, Laharl?"

The mighty half-demon turned to his eldest friend with a snarl. "Y'know, as my second-in-command, you should probably be saying something that's a bit more supportive to me."

Etna raised her eyebrows at Laharl's first sign of returning to reality since Baal had fallen. "Well, maybe if you actually said something that made the least bit of sense then I might get on board here."

Laharl briefly thought over whether he should fire off another useless withering glare before finally settling with letting out a grunt and sitting back down at his throne. "Etna, I have lived for over 1,300 years. And, yeah, I might have slept through about 700 of those but you'd think that I would have been able to figure out how to make life a little easier."

"Well, I don't think it's really that bad," Etna considered, the usually shrewd demon momentarily thrown by Laharl's contemplative moment. "I mean, yeah, your biggest claim to fame just got duplicated by a bunch of humanoids with severe psychological dysfunctions but it could be worse. You could. . . be carrying. . . half our weapons down the hallway?"

"Huh?" Laharl took the wiser route by following Etna's eyes and came upon twelve hunting crossbows, eleven magic long staves, ten Desert Eagles, nine mystic axes, eight spiked gauntlets, seven bladed polearms, six yew wood long bows, five SMG's, four bazookas, three shotguns, two mecha suits and an actual partridge in a pear tree and it was all being carried about by a single poor, stupid soul. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING, FLONNE?!"

Unable to look at Laharl properly, Flonne just shifted her enormous pile of somewhat stolen weaponry so that she was facing him (albeit through a giant pile of metal). "I'm going before The Dark Assembly to convince them that they need to repair the damage down to Wayne Manor. The weapons. . . are for if they say no."

"Wow. Two stupid decisions in one day. Going for the record here, Flonney?" asked Etna, her idle hands effortlessly plucking away one of the tridents from Flonne's arsenal. "You know, The Dark Assembly is a hard enough place to wage war at with a group. Doing this alone would be impossible."

"No. This is PERFECT!" Laharl proclaimed while leaping back to his feet. "I will showcase my superiority to these so-called Misfits by forcing those demonic fuddy duddies to give them back their stuff! And, just as you said, if the assembly says no then that just gives me another way to prove the unparalleled power of the mighty Overlord. AAAAAAAAAA-HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!"

"Maniacal laugh! Maniacal laugh!"

Laharl's efforts to snatch away some of the heavier weapons from the fallen angel were momentarily put on hold as he responded to the high-pitched and gleeful cry. "Maniacal laugh? What are you talking about, Love Freak?"

"I heard it in a movie. You never let me laugh with you so I thought that this was the next best thing!"

Etna thought it best to look on in silence as Flonne and Laharl bickered and walked away. She even remained silent as Flonne became unburdened enough to plant a kiss on Laharl's cheek, an uninhibited display of love and affection that brought a pained screech from the very maw of the blue-haired demon.

And the plan to overthrow the blue-haired softie from his thrown? She considered the cancellation to be a rather impetuous Christmas present.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Well, I do recognize that this story doesn't make a whole lot of sense even if you played _Disgaea: Hour of Darkness _(which you really should, by the way). Then again, if you honestly expected some kind of sanity from one of my holiday stories then you haven't read the tales from the years before. As always, these words are dedicated to my loyal readers in general and one Canadian little sister in particular. Life may keep rolling onward, schedules may change, and maybe I won't write stories and read comics as often as I used to but I'll never forget the people that I met while bringing these stories to light. I thank you and I love you all.

Merry Christmas.


End file.
